


Lost and Found

by Anotsukai



Category: Wolverine And The X-Men (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anotsukai/pseuds/Anotsukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lost and Found

Chapter 1

Wolverine and the X-men fan fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolverine and the X-men. Not sure who does but it isn't me. Please do not sue me.

Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.

Please leave feedback!  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Another lousy morning. Mortimer hated mornings. Sadly, Pietro was a morning person. So he knows he has to get off the floor and get downstairs. He sits up, covers a yawn, and stretches first his arms then his legs. A quick trip to the bathroom as long as Fred wasn't in there and he would be ready to go.

He opens the bedroom door and freezes. Something didn't feel right. But he couldn't figure it out. Shaking his head and thinking it was simply nerves due to the night before. They did another food run for dinner. And Mortimer had screwed up. He missed a security camera and then dropped his share of the stolen food. Not only did he get yelled at for most of the night but they made him go without dinner since he dropped his share. His stomach growls at the memory.

After the trip to the bathroom, his nerves grew and he hops downstairs.

"Sorry I slept in! Ready to..." Mortimer states before he looks around.

The living room was bare. There was not a single sign that the other Brotherhood members were about. Cautiously he moves to the kitchen, hoping maybe they were in a briefing meeting and enjoying the hot coffee of the morning. His body grows cold when he finds no one there. Trying no to panic, he hops back upstairs and check the other rooms. When he opens the last door, knowing that Dominic had chose this room, yet not finding the man from Greece inside, he releases a panicked cry and lowers to a crouch.

"Why aren't they here? They didn't just leave me behind did they? No, no,no,no. They are just out. Doing something they didn't want me to muck up. They just didn't need me so they left me here. But they will come back soon. Yeah, that's right. They'll come back for me soon. I...I better make sure there is coffee waiting for them. Pietro and Neena are really grumpy if they don't get their coffee," he assures himself as he hops back downstairs.

 

The next morning, Mortimer wakes to a painful stomach cramp. Realizing the time he quickly gets up off the kitchen floor and into the living room. His heart tightens as he finds it again empty. His stomach growls again. Frustrated, Mortimer hits the wall, ignoring the pain it causes to his hand.

"Where are you guys! This isn't funny! If it's about the other night, I've learned my lesson! I'm sorry! I won't do it again! So come back already! Please! Please come back!" He screams, hitting the wall with each sentence. Again he sinks down into a crouching position and rubs his eyes, fighting the tears.

"No. No way am I gonna cry now. It's just a test. Yeah, some dumb test. To get me back for my screw up. All I have to do is wait. Be a good Toad and wait," he convinces himself. He turns off the coffee pot and pours out the burnt coffee. Despite his growling stomach, he washes it and refills the coffee pot, starting fresh coffee. Then he allows himself to look in the fridge, finding only a package of crackers. He takes the crackers and goes back to the living room to wait.

The following morning he doesn't bother to look around. He knows they didn't return. He knows he was left behind. And they were not coming back for him. He allows a few tears to spill before wiping them away and slowly getting up. He fills a mug with coffee, even though he wasn't an actual fan of the black stuff, and slowly drinks it despite burning his tongue and the horrible burnt taste. When he sets the cup down, his hand is shaking.

Knowing there was no reason to wait any longer and needing to eat, he starts to head to the back door. But he stops. Slowly he turns and searches for a piece of paper. He finds an old yellow legal pad and a broken pencil. He scribbles a note saying he went to get something to eat. He signs it and sets it next to the coffee pot. Looking at that pad of paper with the note for a long moment before finally leaving out the back door.

A few days later, Mortimer is carefully moving down a back alley. It was late but Mortimer knew the time of day didn't matter. He saw the prowlers moving down the street two blocks back. He nearly got caught when he miss stepped, his foot stepping on a can and it rolled under his weight. But he manage to dive himself into a dumpster just in the nick of time.

He sticks close to the dark building walls and approaches another dumpster. He looks up and down the alley before opening it and looking for any bits of food. He finds a few half finished sandwiches and stuffs them into the backpack he stole from a sporting good stores loading dock. A noise makes him freeze and he slowly looks behind him.

A older man with a cane walks down the alley towards Mortimer. Mortimer quickly throws on the backpack and starts to hop away.

"Stop! Wait just a moment please! I won't alert the MRD if that's what you are afraid of!" The man calls out, his voice seeming younger than he appears.

Mortimer does stop, hissing at the man's shouts. The man said he didn't want to alert the MRD but his shouts was sure to bring them. "Leave me alone!"

"Now, now, hold up. I just want to help you," the man replies.

"Help me? How?" Mortimer asks sarcastically. He is waiting for the man to move just a bit closer. Then the man will receive a sticky present for his efforts.

"Well, how about a warm meal that didn't come from a dumpster? And a warm bed?" The man offers.

Mortimer's eyes widen for just a moment. Since leaving the hideout, he has been finding shelter in the trunk of abandoned cars or on rooftops under cardboard boxes. He changed his schedule, sleeping during the day and moving at night. When you're green, you only have so many options.

He shakes his head, recovering from the words of the man and glares at the fool. "Yeah right. I think I'll pass," Mortimer replies before spitting at the man.

The man sighs and with a quick flash, disappears before the slime hits him and reappears behind Mortimer.

"What the?!" Mortimer cries out.

"Nice try my friend. Nice try. So now that is done, would you like to accept my offer now? You know, warm bed, hot meal? I'll even toss in a hot shower," the man offers with a smile.

"Who are you? Why are you...?" Mortimer questions.

"I'm just a fellow mutant who hates to see my kind living like trash when I could help them is all," the man explains. "Look, it's suppose to rain later tonight. You don't want to be out in that. Come on, just one night in a bed. Heck, you can take my offer and disappear in the morning, leaving me with the tab. What do you have to lose?" The man says coolly.

Mortimer feels something is off with this guy. His mind is literally screaming for him to run. But he can't resist the offer. Not sure why but he finds it so hard to refuse. He swallows and nods his head in agreement.

"There we go. Much better. Now before I take you to that bed, hold your arm out," the man instructs.

"N...no," Mortimer replies but with a sudden icy cold feeling fills his body, he watches his arm extend itself out.

The man smiles and walks closer to Mortimer. He pulls a metal cuff from his ragged blue coat pocket and snaps it around Mortimer's wrist.

"Oh don't worry. This little thing just hides your mutant signature from the prowler's and if the MRD scans you, you show up as a registered mutant so they can't take you in. A good thing really. I hate when they take my merchandise," the man explains.

"Wa...wait! Merchandise?" Mortimer questions, his voice rising in pitch as the panic is filling him. He wants to hop away, to run. But for some reason, his body simply won't obey.

"Follow me," the man orders and leads Mortimer down and out of the alleyway. He nods to a blue haired girl with white glowing eyes as they pass. Mortimer only whimpers as he is forced to follow.

The next day, Mortimer is taking a very hot shower. He is sitting in the corner, the burning water raining down on his skin. Despite the heat, he is shaking. After the man lead him to a motel room, Mortimer was showered and fed. Then a knock came to the door. A strange man enters and after exchanging a few words with the man from the alley, he approached Mortimer.

He remembers backing away and demanding to know what the heck was going on. The man from the alley began to laugh. An icy cold feeling came over Mortimer once again and against his will, he began to move towards the new stranger. The man from the alley explained the new situation to the terrified Mortimer. He wasn't receiving a charity. He had been accumulated. The man in the blue raggedy coat was a nothing short of a pimp. With the help of someone who he simply referred to as his sister, he would go out and collect new employees.

Mortimer's eyes widen. Sure he lived on the streets more than a few times but never would he consider this. Not even for a hot meal. He tried to scream out but that icy cold feeling tightened in his neck. Horrified, he watched as his hands carefully removed the new man's clothes. He managed a whimper when the man did the same to him. As the night progressed, Mortimer's body was used against his will to please whoever came to that room. The icy cold feeling had remained as the night continued. It finally disappeared when the first few morning rays came up, leaving nothing but pain for Mortimer.

Now he is curled up on the shower floor, letting his skin burn under the heat of the water. He is sobbing but not aware that he is doing it. He digs his long nails into his arms and slowly drags them down. Thin lines of blood form and Mortimer feels relief when he see's the blood slowly drip down his arms. For a horrifying moment, he was afraid that he had died and was now in an inescapable hell.

Then he feels the ice cold sensation growing over his body. Quickly he realizes that no he isn't dead but he is still in the inescapable hell. His body gets up and turns off the water. He stands there looking at his reflection for a moment when a smile forms on his lips. Mortimer mentally screams, for this too isn't by his control.

His wet, naked body walks out to the bed room of the motel. Sitting in a chair like he did the night before is the man in the blue coat. He's grinning from ear to ear.

"You did good last night. Made a nice profit. I'm very happy that I found you," the man states. "Well I think you have had enough time to take in your situation. So let's get down to business. You belong to me now. Don't even think about running away. I have my ways of finding you. The only choice you are allowed to make is the one I'm presenting you with now. That choice is whether or not you will do your job voluntarily or not? My sister can keep controlling your body like she did last night, make you do all kinds of things," he informs Mortimer.

To add to Mortimer's horror, his left hand starts to stroke himself in front of the man.

"Please...don't" Mortimer whines as he closes his eyes in shame.

"Oh she will stop, if you agree to behave yourself. Play nice," the man replies.

Mortimer moans as his hand picks up the speed. "Okay...Alright, I will. Just please, stop..."he begs.

"Stop now? But that would be rude. By the looks of it, she's nearly done," the man replies.

"N...no!" Mortimer cries out as his body finishes. The icy cold sensation leaves him and Mortimer simply falls to the ground, curling into a ball and crying.

"Opps. Looks like we pushed him a bit too far Sister. Let's give him a few hours to recuperate," the man comments as he gets up. The girl with the blue hair steps out from the corner and follows the man out of the room.

For the next several hours, Mortimer merely lays curled on the floor, crying past the point of no longer having tears.

A couple weeks later, Mortimer is standing in the doorway of his motel room shirtless, signaling that he is available. He stares ahead, not really looking at anything or anyone. He absently scratches his right arm, not even acknowledging the damage he's been doing. He barely even feels it. These days, Mortimer barely feels anything.

He faintly hears shouting off to his right but he doesn't turn to look. There is no place for curiosity here. Mortimer learned that only a few short days after being brought here. He received a black eye for that incident. So he simply ignores the shouting. But when there is gun fire, he quickly withdraws into the room and makes himself as low to the ground as possible. A woman screams followed by more gunshots. Did they sound closer? He hears the other tenets scream and cry. He watches two other girls, one wearing a metallic like bracelet like his, run past. The one wearing the bracelet comes back and looks at Mortimer.

"Hey! Someone killed Blue and his sister! We're free! Get out of here!" She yells at him.

He watches her take off once again. Mortimer doesn't move for several minutes, hearing the gunfire grow faint. What makes him move is the sirens. Quickly he throws a shirt on and grabs the old backpack he hid under the bed. He hops out of the room and down the street, ducking into an alley as soon as he spots the flashing lights. He leans against the wall, watching the cop cars speed past. After a few minutes, he hops away into the shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

Lost and Found

Chapter 2

Wolverine and the X-men fan fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolverine and the X-men. Not sure who does but it isn't me. Please do not sue me.

Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.

Please leave feedback!  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

A few weeks later, he is leaving a convince store, his backpack filled with snacks and a few cheap bottles of water. He walks quickly, pulling the old hooded jacket he had found in the trash down over his face a bit more. He wishes he could hop but the large boots he stole made it hard to do. Last time he tried, he landed face first, smashing his nose. He passes a woman pushing a stroller and notices her wavering her hand under her nose. He sighs, knowing that despite his efforts to wash in the convenience store bathroom his filthy clothes still gave him a smell.

He continues on, focused on getting to the old tool shed he had been staying in since the murder of the man in the blue coat and his sister. He found the foreclosure sign and the boarded up house. He tried to get inside but there wasn't enough of a gap in the boards to crawl through. He had tried to find a back way entrance when he found the tool shed. It was small, the floor cement and old rusty tools hanging on the walls. There was a busted light bulb hanging from a single fixture. But it was shelter. So he became determined to make it work. He had used the tiny hand broom he found to pick up the glass and throw it out into the weeds and covered the cold floor with cardboard to create a little bit of padding.

He alternated his nights where he would either do simple pick pocketing or providing services. Last night he had some luck and managed to pickpocket a very thick wallet. He smiles slightly, knowing he still had about a hundred left. He planned to bury some of it next to the tool shed in a tin with some other bit of money he managed to resist spending. He had no silly dreams of a better life. He simply saved it because there were bad nights where he came out with only a few dollars. Not to mention the few times he had to go without eating.

Since being picked up by that man and his sister, he became very wary of people. He was even careful with the men he serviced to. He wouldn't talk to them. He never followed anyone anywhere. They want his services, it was right there or nothing at all. He took the money once everything was done then took off before anything further could be said. If the client seemed shifty, he ignored them. If they hit him, well, he either ran or if he needed the money badly, he accepted it. But not without taking their wallet in exchange.

As he walks, he watches everyone who comes near him. His body would tense the closer they got until they passed him. Mentally he counts the blocks. Thanks to the thick wallet, he looks forward to a few nights of sleep rather than doing either of his little tricks. Days where he can just relax in that tool shed, not having to worry about people seeing him or avoiding the MRD and their prowlers. He still wears the metal bracelet that was put on him. He had tried to use the tools in the shed to get it off but after cutting more of his skin, he gave up. He wonders if it actually did what that man claims it does. But he didn't have the guts to test it out.

Seven more blocks to go. He passes an alley and only glances at the three men smoking in the alley. He doesn't notice them quickly following them, one of them carrying a long piece of chain that he was stretching between his hands. Or the one holding a piece of lead pipe up against his side. So he was surprised when he hears someone call out to him.

"Hey man! Got a light?!" One of the men call out. Mortimer starts to turn to look back nervously when the man with the lead pipe swings and hits him in the back of the head.

"Agh!" He cries out, falling to his knees. One of the men tear off his backpack while the one with the chain quickly wraps it around Mortimer's neck. Laughing, the men drag him back down the alley.

Mortimer tries to struggle as the men drag him, clawing at the tight chain around his neck and struggling to get his feet under him. Just when he thinks he can stand up, they slam him into the wall of the building. Quickly they wrap the chain around a meter and lock it. Grabbing his wrists, they painfully restrain them to the chains with zip ties. The next few minutes the men enjoy hitting and kicking him. One man goes through his pockets and finds the money. They make lewd jokes before he manages to kick out. The kick connects, launching the one with the lead pipe into the wall opposite of him. This turns out to not be one of his greatest moments for the man ordered the other two to hold down his legs. When they finally are able to hold his legs out, the third man brings down the lead pipe repeatedly on his legs. He screams out, hearing the bones break, the searing pain racing through his body. There is a new wave of nausea with each hit of the pipe. Finally, his body can no longer take it and he passes out.

The men continue laughing as they count out the money and take the backpack along with them. They fail to notice the black hair man with a metal arm until they knock him down.

"Hey man! Watch where you're going!" One of the men yell out as they continue past him.

The man carefully gets up and wipes himself off.

"I would if I only knew where I was going! I swear, next time Bobby suggests hanging out after shopping, I'm passing. Just where the heck is this arcade suppose to be?" He mutters, looking around the ground for something.

He finds a piece of paper floating in a puddle and sighs as he picks it up.

"Perfect. Just perfect. Looks like I'll just have to find the nearest pay phone instead," the man mutters.

The man hears a low moan, drawing his attention to the alley the men had come out of. He hears a second one, this one more faint.

"Okay Forge, that is creepy. I should just mind my own business and high tail it to the closest pay phone. Then again, Logan is sure to tear me a new one for getting lost again this week. So either check out the creepy moaning noise or risk getting skewered by adamantium claws...hope I don't lose a limb for this," Forge grumbles as he carefully approaches the alley way.

Forge notices a human like form against the wall. Moving closer he slowly takes in the situation. Before him is a green skin man with his arms tied above his head to a chain that is wrapped around his throat. The man's black dreadlocks cover his face. When Forge accidentally bumps the man's leg, the man cries out painfully.

"Sorry! Sorry. Are you...never mind, very stupid question," Forge mutters as he carefully kneels next to the man.

"Get away from me!" Mortimer growls at the stranger.

"Normally I would. But I can't leave you in this shape. Stay still and I'll get rid of this," Forge replies.

Hie mechanical right hand shifts and a small laser beam develops between his index finger and thumb. Taking a deep breath, he leans over the man and using the laser, cuts through the zip ties and chain links. Mortimer's hands fell weakly to his side as Forge's hand shifted and the laser dissipates. Forge is about to touch the chain when the man again growls and raises his right fist in a warning.

"Don't touch me!" Mortimer yells at the stranger, glaring at the man with his golden eyes.

"Hey now! I'm just trying to help you out," Forge explains.

"I didn't ask for your help," Mortimer replies bitterly. He is starting to have trouble keeping his vision straight. And he feels so sick. If that man doesn't leave him soon, he's going to witness a not very pleasant sight.

"Maybe not. But you sure do need it," Forge comments, looking over the man. "I think your legs may be broken."

"Yeah they..." Mortimer starts to reply before suddenly leaning away from the man and begins to throw up painfully.

"I think it's better you just sit still and maybe not talk for a bit," Forge suggests.

Mortimer wipes his mouth and glances over at the stranger before nodding weakly.

"Listen, I'm going to go and make a phone call. I got some friends who can help," Forge tells the young man who looks like he is about to pass out.

Mortimer only nods his head, trying to fight another wave of pain and nausea. Forge looks around and takes off his navy blue jacket and covers the man's chest. Then he gets up and hurries to find a pay phone. Mortimer watches him before throwing up again then passes out. 

When he comes to, he finds himself strapped to a gurney in a darken van. He can hear voices but they sounded so far away. He passes out again but he could have sworn he heard a growl not unlike a wild animal.

The next time he comes to, he is blinded by white light. He groans as he turns his head away and weakly covers his eyes with his arms.

"Don't move Toad."

Mortimer freezes. He knows that voice. He may not have heard it in a long time but you just simply can not forget Wolverine's voice.

"Logan, try not to scare the patient. I'd hate to have to reset his legs again," another voice scolds Wolverine.

Mortimer hears Wolverine grumble about something but he can't make it out. Slowly he moves his arm and after his eyes adjust, he looks around. He finds himself laying in a sterilized bed and standing to his left is who he believes to be Wolverine, for even though the man was dressed in civilian clothing, it was hard to mistake that snarl. Standing next to him is the large blue furred mutant who he recalls going by the code name Beast. Beast is looking through some papers on a clipboard but when he notices Mortimer's gaze, he offers a kind smile.

"Mm...my legs?" Mortimer squeaks out, not sure if he was asking a question or simply repeating.

"Both were broken. The right in three places, the left in five. Luckily, they will heal and you will be able to walk...or hop again when they do," Beast fills in for him.

Mortimer releases a relived sigh before his thoughts catch up to where he is exactly not to mention who is standing next to him.

"So, Toad, how did you wind up in that alley that Forge found you in?" Wolverine asks, clearly not in the mood to beat around the bush.

"None...none of your business," Mortimer replies but his voice falters, making it barely louder than a whisper.

"I am not in the mood Toad. Answer my questions. How did you end up in that alley?" Logan asks again, the claws coming out from his left hand to prove the point.

"Or what? You gonna kill me? Beat me up some more? Go ahead!" Mortimer shouts back. He feels so tired. Too tired to care what Wolverine will do to him. He is still afraid of the burly Edward scissor hands. But after everything that has happened since finding out he got left behind by the Brotherhood, he almost hopes that Wolverine would use those claws on him.  
But Wolverine surprises him and withdraws his claws.

"Not going to do either, bub. I'm not one of those guys who kicks folks when they are already down," Wolverine replies. He turns and walks away.

"Why not?! Ain't I worth beating on?! Don't you want your answers?! Hey!" Mortimer screams out after Wolverine.

Beast sadly looks over the amphibian mutant as he enters a few commands into the computer. He's not sure is Toad is even aware of the tears that are spilling down his cheeks as he screams after Logan. He watches quietly as Toad struggles to keep his eyes open and continue yelling. After a few minutes, Toad weakly lays his head back and falls asleep. Beast makes notes of his vitals before sighing.

A few minutes later, Forge enters the infirmary. He takes a glance towards Beast before looking down at Mortimer.

"Hello Forge," Beast greets.

"Hey. So this is Toad from the Brotherhood?" Forge asks.

"Indeed it is. Does that change anything?" Beast asks.

"Huh?" Forge asks clearly confused.

"I was inquiring if that bit of information would have caused you to not try and help him," Beast explains.

"What? No! Sorry but no one deserves to be smashed up like that," Forge replies angrily.

"My apologies. You are a better man then most. I know a few others who would not have stopped to help him," Beast comments.

"That is a scary thought Hank. After all, isn't the whole point of the X-men is to help those who can't help themselves?" Forge asks.

"Something like that, yes," Beast agrees.

"So how bad is he?" Forge asks.

"Besides the broken legs, he has three cracked ribs, is severely malnourished, has some infected scratches on his arms there..." Beast reports.

"Infected scratches?" Forge repeats as he moves closer and looks at the bandage arms. "I didn't notice..."

"They weren't caused by who ever roughed him up. They were self inflicted," Beast says sadly.

"Wait...he scratched himself bad enough that they could become infected?"Forge asks.

"If I was to make a educated guess, I would say he developed a nervous habit. It's clear he has been under a large amount of mental stress," Beast states. "I've taken the opportunity to look over footage of the last few Brotherhood encounters. There is no footage of him with them for the past six months."

"I wonder what happened," Forger mutters mostly to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Lost and Found

Chapter 3

Wolverine and the X-men fan fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolverine and the X-men. Not sure who does but it isn't me. Please do not sue me.

Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, violence and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.

Please leave feedback!  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

 

A few days later, Forge again enters the infirmary. He walks over to Mortimer's bed and waves. Mortimer is sitting up, glaring.

"Hey!" Forge greets.

"Hey yourself," Mortimer replies bitterly.

"Oh come on, don't be like that," Forge says with a pout.

This catches Mortimer off guard. "Ah...sorry," he mumbles.

"It's okay. Anyone can see you've been through a lot," Forge replies.

Mortimer looks away at this comment, crossing his arms and mindlessly scratching at the bandages on his left arm.

"Hank was right. That is a nervous habit," Forge comments when he notices what Mortimer is doing.

"What is?" Mortimer asks, a slight annoyed tone in his voice.

"The scratching you are doing. To your left arm there," Forge points out.

Mortimer looks down and see's what Forge is talking about. He pulls his arms apart and grips the blanket instead.

"So what do you want X-man?" Mortimer asks.

"Forge," Forge replies.

"Forge? What forge?" Mortimer asks confusingly.

"No, I mean my name is Forge, not X-man," Forge corrects.

"What kind of name is Forge?" Mortimer questions as he rolls his eyes.

"What kind of name is Toad?" Forge counters.

Toad angrily spits some slime at Forge who quickly ducks down. The slime hits the wall behind him and slowly drips down the wall.

"Hey!" Forge cries out.

"Stupid X-man. Get out of here and leave me alone already," Mortimer angrily replies.

"I said my name is Forge," Forge replies stubbornly.

"I don't care," Mortimer replies.

"Going to be a long lonely healing period for you then," Forge states before slowly walking away.

"Wait! How long will I be like this?" Mortimer asks, trying to hide the panic appearing in his bruised face.

"Hank said it can take anywhere from four to six months before those casts can come off. Add time for physical therapy and you might be looking at almost nine months," Forge answers.

"Nine months?" Mortimer repeats, all attitude gone from his voice.

Forge takes a few steps back after sighing and looks over to Toad. His eyes widen when he see's the young man lower his head and starts to cry.

"Hey...umm..." Forge tries to think of something to say to calm the other guy down.

"I...I can't do this anymore. Every time I think I'll be alright...something happens..." Mortimer mutters as he stares down at his blanket.

Forge moves closer, slowly going to Mortimer's side. Carefully, he squeezes Toad's wrist.

"You know, you're at the Xavier institute. We can help..." Forge starts to tell Toad.

"Help me? After everything? And what do I have to do to earn that help? Give information about the Brotherhood? Join the X-men? Or maybe be some kind of servant? Or...is there someone I have to sleep with?" Mortimer asks weakly, defeated.

"Whoa! No one is asking you to do any of that! There isn't a price to pay for help around here," Forge replies, clearly shock at the questions Toad asked.

"No, there is always a price! Something someone wants from me. My skills, my information, my body...tell me what I have to give up already. I'll do it. I just want to know what I have to lose," Mortimer replies, looking directly into Forge's eyes.

"I said there isn't a price and I mean it. I can't promise you won't get some nasty references about your time in the Brotherhood, after all you were a bad guy. But no one is expecting anything from you except you getting better," Forge states firmly.

Mortimer looks up at Forge is disbelief. Then a dark expression clouds his face as a thought comes to mind.

"Maybe the others don't want something in return but you do, don't you? That's why you helped me isn't it?" Mortimer questions, his voice sounding strange.

"I didn't have any..." Forge starts to say when Mortimer suddenly grabs the front of Forge's shirt and pulls him closer. Mortimer kisses Forge on the mouth while his other hand rubs the front of Forge's crotch.

Forge is caught off guard for a moment but quickly recovers. With a hard push, he pushes Toad away from him. He steps back but his footing isn't good and he falls back into the nearby machinery.

"What is wrong with you?!" Forge cries out as he wipes his mouth.

"What is wrong with you?! Come on, don't tell me that's not what you wanted from me!" Mortimer shouts back.

"I don't know what messed up past you have but as I said before, no one here including myself wants anything from you! Get it?! No one!" Forge replies angrily as he gets up and storms out of the infirmary.

Mortimer simply watches him go, too stunned to do anything. Slowly a depression covers him. Again he hugs himself and starts to scratch at the bandages.

A few days later, Mortimer is laying on the bed and counting the tiles on the ceiling. Thanks to all the time where he was locked up at a mutant detention facility of the MRD's, he knew little ways to entertain himself. Counting the tiles, trying to mentally create shapes out of them, count the corners...they weren't video game quality entertainment but they kept the madness boredom brings away.

Since the bad blow out with Forge, he hadn't really received any company. Beast, or Hank as he encouraged Toad to address him as, kept an eye on him for medical purposes. Administering the antibiotics, changing the bandages, cleaning him up...even the bathroom needs were taken care of. He felt awkward about it so he made no attempt to talk to the blue mutant. But he couldn't hep but wish someone would talk to him.

So when Forge walks in, Mortimer is filled with relief. At least, until he remembers their last conversation. Forge stands at the foot of the bed, not meeting eye contact. This makes Mortimer lower his head.

"I'm sorry," Mortimer offers before Forge could say anything.

"It's fine. Just...don't do that again," Forge replies as his face reddens.

The two remain silent for a few minutes. Finally Forge takes in a deep breath.

"So, how are you feeling?" Forge asks.

"Uh...well, a bit crazy. I can't move around and there's nothing to do. I was counting tiles just before you came in here," Mortimer shares.

"Counting tiles? I can see why you would be going crazy. Want some company for a bit?" Forge asks.

"Huh? Ain't you already here?" Mortimer asks, his face clearly showing his befuddlement.

Forge laughs. "Ah, yeah, guess I am already giving you company. Dumb question huh?" Forge asks sheepishly.

"I've asked worse. Just can't think of any at the moment," Mortimer replies.

Forge looks at him with a puzzled look for a moment.

"What? I got something on my face?" Mortimer questions, bringing a hand up to his face.

"No. It's just...you don't seem like a bad guy," Forge explains.

"Ahh...gee...thanks?" Mortimer replies.

"What I mean is I have heard all about the Brotherhood and how extreme they can be. But I can't see how you fit in with them," Forge tries to explain a little bit more clearly.

"Oh..." Mortimer replies as he looks away.

"Ah, sorry! That didn't come out right!" Forge tries to apologize.

"No. It is right. I didn't fit in with them," Mortimer replies, the pain clearly heard in his voice.

"What happened? Uhh, forget I asked that," Forge mutters.

"I simply screwed up one too many times. So they left me behind," Mortimer shares.

Forge rubs the back of his head, unsure what to say next.

"It's okay. I mean, I should have known. Pietro was getting tired of the others complaining about me. Domino gave up on me a few missions back. And Avalanche...he simply hated me. Bet he's happier than ever now," Mortimer continues.

"That's hard..." Forge replies. He thinks about his own experiences and the views the others must have of him. Forge really feels for Toad, for it is too easily close to Forge's own situation.

"Yeah, it is. It's like getting lost and never finding your home or something..." Mortimer states,minis voice barely a whisper.

"I understand," Forge replies.

"How could you possibly understand?" Mortimer replies miserably.

"Well when I was younger, a kid really, I was forced to move around a lot. Never in one place for longer than a year. When my mutant skill started to show itself, I kinda upset the plan folks had for me. So I had to leave," Forge shares.

"Leave?" Mortimer asks.

"I lived on the streets of New York. Didn't last long though. I joined some other kids and tried car jacking a truck filled with laptops. Kinda wish I had thought that one through. Ended up in a car crash. It...was bad. I was in the passenger seat and got pinned between the wall of the building we smashed into and the truck. Not only did I lose my arm and leg but spent the next 18 months in a detainment center for youths. That's where Professor Xavier found me," Forge states sadly. He glances over to Toad and see's the large wide golden eyes looking at him somberly.

"This is the first place I could actually call a home. But sometimes...I feel like I'm just waiting to be told to leave. Kinda why I'm glad Logan is so hard with the Danger room. As long as there is something that needs to be made or repaired, I'm needed," Forge states.

"At least you can provide something useful," Mortimer offers with just a faint smile.

Forge notices and offers a smile in return.

"Remember when we were talking about names?" Forge asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Your name is Forge," Mortimer replies as he rolls his eyes.

"No, that's just my code name. Real name is Jon," Forge offers.

"Jon? I wouldn't have guessed that," Mortimer replies.

"Oh yeah? What would you have guessed?" Forge asks.

"Some kind of crazy Indian name. Something like Silverwind or some other weird..." Mortimer tries to express.

Forge bursts out laughing. When he calms down...

"Crazy Indian name huh? You know, you are one of the very few who picks up on that. But no, no crazy name. Just Jon," Forge replies.

"Mortimer," Mortimer shares.

"Mortimer? You mean your name is Mortimer?" Forge asks.

"Yeah. What, you thought it was just Toad?" Mortimer asks.

"No...well maybe. Never heard you go by anything else," Forge answers honestly.

"Yeah well, I guess Mortimer was just too much trouble to say. Specially when yelling," Mortimer offers.

"Well Mortimer...would calling you Mort be okay?" Forge asks.

Mortimer simply nods his head.

"Alright. Well Mort, I have to go and do some repairs but I'll stop by again and bring you something better than counting tiles to do," Forge promises.

"Okay," Mort replies. He watches Jon walk away, giving him a quick wave before leaving the infirmary.

Mort lays downs and dares to let himself think about seeing Jon again. A quiet voice warns him that this is another trick, like the man in the blue ragged coat. That after a while he will again be thrown on the streets. But he ignores the voice that he had gotten so use to adhering to. Maybe it's his nature to cling to anyone who treats him kindly, or something else but Mort doesn't dwell on this. No, he looks forward to talking to someone after spending so much time hiding from people. And Jon seems like someone who could at least understand Mort. That was something new for him and he couldn't help but enjoy the thought. After all, no one ever even tried to understand him.


	4. Chapter 4

Lost and Found

Chapter 4

Wolverine and the X-men fan fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolverine and the X-men. Not sure who does but it isn't me. Please do not sue me.

Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.

Please leave feedback!  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

 

A few days later, Mort and Jon are playing a serious game of checkers. Jon moves a red piece and sits back with a smile.

"King me!" Jon states.

"I swear you are cheating," Mort grumbles.

"Nope. Just a checkers master," Jon brags.

"So a master of none?" Mort teases.

Jon makes a hurtful expression and Mort laughs. A cough draws their attention when Logan enters the room.

"You are looking better," Logan states.

Mort swallows nervously and nods his head as his eyes grow wider by the second. Jon glances between the two.

"Need a few minutes alone with Toad," Logan states.

Jon notices the stricken look and the panic rising in Mort's eyes. He gets up and offers a small smile to Mort before leaving the room.

"This will only take a few minutes as long as you just answer my questions. Preferably without repeating what happened last time. Am I clear?" Logan asks.

Mortimer nods in agreement.

"Let's start with the same question as last time. How did you end up in that alley?" Logan questions, folding his arms across his chest.

"I was jumped by three guys. They hit me in the back of the head and dragged me there," Toad answers.

"Were they the ones that broke your legs?" Logan continues.

"Yes."

"Alright, let's try this one. Why are you not with the Brotherhood?" Logan shifts the subject.

"After...after I screwed up a food run, they abandoned me. I woke the next morning and they were just gone," Toad shares.

"You sure about that?"

"I...I waited for them for a few days. Until I realized that they weren't coming back," Toad answers quietly.

"What did you do after that?"

"I was on the streets. Mostly I...I searched dumpsters for what I needed. Slept in cars. Until the man in the blue coat and his sister found me," Toad continues. He doesn't know why Wolverine is asking him these questions but decides to answer them honestly. Maybe the answers will unsettle the most dangerous of the X-men, bettering Toad's chances of not getting skewered.

"Man in a blue coat and his sister?" Logan asks with a suspicious expression.

"I never knew their names. They were mutants though," Toad adds.

"So you team up with them. What did you do for them?"

"I...I slept with...so they could make...money," Toad reveals this part very quietly.

"Wait. You...never mind. Were you still working for them then when Forge found you?" Logan moves the questioning forward, scratching his chin but keeping an eye on the green mutant. This was turning into one heck of a interrogation.

"No. Someone...someone killed them. I don't know who. I had nothing to do with it either. I swear! When I was told what happen, I ran," Toad answers. His hands begin to shake a little as he grows afraid that Wolverine isn't believing his story.

"And after that?"

"I...I found a tool shed. I was living in it before I was jumped. Then I was brought here. There is nothing more," Toad replies.

"That's one heck of a story there kid. Calm down, I believe it," Wolverine states as he looks directly at Toad.

"You do?" Toad asks in disbelief.

"Yeah I do. I would have known if you were lying. I just have one more thing to ask you about," Wolverine replies firmly. "Where did you pick up that mutant tracking bracelet?"

"Mutant...tracking bracket?" Toad asks, obviously unsure as to what Wolverine is talking about.

"The metal bracelet you had on. It serves as a way to track register mutants if they commit any serious felonies," Wolverine explains.

"Oh. I was told it would keep the MRD away from me," Toad replies.

"Quite the opposite. So where did you pick it up?" Wolverine asks again.

"The man with the blue coat put it on me after his sister took control of my body," Toad answers.

"Control of your body?" Wolverine questions.

"I know how that sounds. But it's true. You...you can't imagine..."Toad tries to explain but his throat tightens and he is unable to finish.

"Listen bub, I do have an idea what you are talking about it. I've ran into mutants with those kind of abilities," Wolverine informs Toad. "And I've had the experience of my own body not being under my control more times than I am comfortable with."

"There's a time where you were okay with that?" Toad asks, his eyes wide.

"No," Wolverine states firmly. "So now that we're clear on that. I will think over what you told me and decide what your options will be later. Just...focus on recovering."

Wolverine leaves the infirmary and looks over to Forge. It's clear by the technician's posture and how he simply won't meet his gaze that he hard heard the whole conversation.

"I'm done with him for now. Go ahead and finish your game," Logan tells Forge.

"Ahh...right," Forge replies. He moves closer to the infirmary door.

"Problem with eavesdropping, you end up learning more than you ever wanted to know," Logan mutters loud enough for Forge to hear before moving on.

Forge sighs and enters the infirmary. He meets Mort's gaze and both look away uncomfortable.

"You heard too?" Mort asks.

"Ah, yeah. I'm sorry," Forge apologizes.

"That's okay. I...I don't think I could handle saying it all out loud again. It really does sound..." Mort tries to finish but ends up gesturing confusingly with his hands.

Hands that quickly cover his face when he starts to break down. So when Forge wraps his arms around him, pulling him closely to his chest, Mort is caught off guard by the kind gesture.

"Wha...what?" Mort cries out.

"You look like you needed this. Don't worry, I'm only going to hold you. Nothing more," Jon tells him quietly.

Too emotionally exhausted to resist, Mort clutches Jon's shirt and sobs into it as the events he just revealed take their toll on him. Forge merely holds the broken mutant tightly in his arms.

A few days later, Forge walks into the infirmary when he hears Mort and Hank talking.

"I don't understand," Mort says, "How can my legs be healed faster?"

"It's a simple process. A transfusion of blood," Hank replies.

Forge notices Mort swallowing nervously.

"Sounds like good news?" Forge asks.

"Yes actually. I was just telling Mr.Toynbee here that I have looked into ways for his legs to heal a bit faster. I simply can not take him counting the buttons on the keypad one more time. Anyway, Mr. Worthington has agreed to stop by and donate some of his blood to Mr. Toynbee here," Hank informs Forge.

"Wait, Warren has healing abilities like Logan does? How come I didn't know this?" Forge asks, the surprise clearly seen on his face.

"Yes. But unlike Logan, his healing ability can be temporarily shared by a blood transfusion. So instead of being stuck in this bed for months, it will be only a few more days. Hopefully," Hank replies.

"Hopefully?!" Both Mort and Forge cry out at the same time.

"I'm joking. I'm positive it will work out. Mr. Worthington is coming in tomorrow night. It's a good thing both of your blood types match. Now, I'll let you two have some privacy," Hank comments as he walks away, smiling towards Forge.

Forge looks back to Mort and notices him scratching mindlessly at his left bandaged arm.

"You got to learn to stop that," Forge comments as he grabs Mort's wrist and pulls the hand away from the arm.

"Sorry..." Mort replies quietly, his face reminding Forge of a guilty child.

"Hate to have Warren come here and his blood just heals your arms rather than your legs," Forge states, examining the hand and wrist that he had pulled away earlier. He sighs when he finds some new scratches at the wrist. Mort realizes what Forge is looking at and quickly pulls his hand away.

"So, what do you think about finally getting out of this bed?" Forge asks.

"Excited...and nervous," Mort answers.

"Why nervous? Not a fan of needles?" Forge pries.

"Who is?" Mort asks.

"Druggies," Forge replies smartly.

Mort looks questionably at Forge.

"Well why else would they keep stabbing themselves with them?" Forge explains.

"Yeah, well, I hate needles. Didn't help that when you turn green, they have to see if your blood did too," Mort comments.

"That does sound pretty bad. But you can bare with the needles this one time, can't you? Or are you in love with this bed?" Forge questions.

"No. I mean, no I don't like this bed. Hate it. So if I have to deal with the needles," Mort trails off, looking at the doorway leading out of the infirmary.

"It's not just the needles that have you worked up, is it?" Forge asks.

"No," Mort answers.

Forge waits a few minutes, mindlessly tinkering with his mechanical arm. Finally he decides to get Mort to continue before he possibly starts scratching again.

"So what is it that has you so nervous about what should be really good news?" Forge asks quietly.

Mort takes a deep breath before answering.

"With my legs...I had a place to stay. Time where I didn't have to worry about where I will stay..." Mort shares thoughtfully. Forge could see by the way Mort is staring at the doorway that this was a very serious issue to Mort.

"Still do. I mean, I know the others could be rough around the edges. But I can't see them agreeing to toss you back onto the street," Forge offers.

Mort simply shakes his head.

"Why not?" Forge asks, slightly annoyed with Mort's stubbornness to remain down.

"Maybe you are okay with me here but it's clear no one else is," Mort replies with a sigh.

"So? Why does that matter?" Forge questions, knowing very well why it matters.

"It would be like being with the Brotherhood again. Wolverine may let me stay for a time but how long can he put up with the others complaining about me? I have already woken up once to find myself abandoned," Mort answers.

"That was them though. And it's really unlikely that everyone will just leave the institute. Well, I mean permanently. Everything we need is here. And don't worry about Logan. He's a master at ignoring everyone. Does it with me all the time," Forge tries to argue.

"Why are you trying to convince me to stay?" Mort asks, finally looking away from the doorway to meet Forge's gaze.

"Because I don't want to find you in an alley again. Broken, bleeding, beaten...I never want to see you like that again," Forge answers firmly.

Mortimer slowly looks over Forge, looking for any sign that would reveal that he doesn't mean what he said. Forge continues to look directly at him.

"Would you let me stay with you?" Mort whispers, the desperation showing in his eyes.

"Of course," Forge agrees.

"Real...really?" Mort asks in disbelief.

"Like I said, I don't want to find you in another alley. If sharing a room keeps that from happening, then I'm fine with that," Forge states firmly.

"But...but you know what I've had to do in the past. What I tried earlier..." Mort lowers his head, his hand moving toward his other wrist again.

"Stop that!" Forge yells, grabbing the hand just before it starts scratching.

Mort jumps at the shout and whimpers at the pain of how tightly Forge is gripping his wrist.

"Stop...hurting... yourself. I swear, if I have to I will make it so you can't scratch anything. As for that incident earlier...and what that weird sibling pair made you do...none of it matters to me. I trust you. I believe you are not going to try anything. Now sit still while I add some more bandages around both your wrists. Then I am going to find you a set of gloves," Forge tells Mort angrily.

Mort does as he is told and watches Forge search nervously. When Forge leaves in search of gloves, Mort lays down and covers his head with the sheet and blanket. Under the covers, he begins to tremble.


	5. Chapter 5

Lost and Found Chapter 5

by AnoTsukai, Aug 7, 2014, 4:37:19 PM  
Literature / Fan Fiction / General Fiction

Lost and Found

Chapter 5

Wolverine and the X-men fan fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolverine and the X-men. Not sure who does but it isn't me. Please do not sue me.

Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, violence and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.

Please leave feedback!  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Two days later, Mortimer is introduced to Warren Worthington. He had been surprised to see how normal looking the man was. At least, until he took off his long coat. Mortimer couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the white feathers. Warren knew who Mortimer was and who he had ran with but he didn't make any remarks about his past. Instead, he was very pleasant and friendly. He talked to Mortimer during the blood transfusion, which helped greatly.

When the blood started to enter into Mortimer's body, it felts so hot. It seemed so strange to him for he had IV's put in him in the past and they always seemed cold. As he laid there, the transfusion line running into his right arm, he starts to notice odd tingling sensations starting from where the line enters his vein, spreading throughout his body from there. He looks up above him at a hologram x-ray version of himself. He could see a white glow around the same area as where the transfusion blood is flowing through his veins. He watches it spread, leaving white trails along the hologram.

"The white lines we see is Mr. Worthington's blood traveling through your body. Notice the area where your crack ribs are. Watch. And there we go," Hank points out to Mortimer.

Mortimer watches as a few white lines go towards the area of the cracked ribs that had begun to heal. He feels the warmth in his chest the same time he watches the the cracks in the bones fuse and heal within minutes.

"Because your ribs were already healing, Mr. Worthington's healing ability was able to complete the process very quickly. We're almost done. Once we see the blood flow to the fractured legs, we will stop the transfusion. How are you two feeling?" Hank asks, looking at Warren first.

"I'm fine. Tempted to take a nap. With the latest political up roars with the MRD, I haven't been able to relax and simply do nothing for quiet sometime," Warren replies.

"Uh...I'm sorry for the trouble," Mortimer offers weakly.

"Don't worry about it. Like I said, you are kinda doing me a favor," Warren replies and offers a grateful smile to Mortimer.

"Mr. Toynbee, are you feeling alright?" Hank asks.

"Ye...yes. It...feels warm but not burning," Mortimer answers.

Within minutes, Mortimer watches the white lines make their way to his legs. He takes in a sharp breath, feeling just a moment of pain then nothing but warmth. A few minutes later, Beast stops the blood transfusion. Even with the new blood no longer flowing into him, he could still feel it coursing through his veins. He looks over to Warren and finds the winged man had indeed fallen asleep.

"Don't worry. He will be up in a bit. He plans to return home in the morning," Hank informs Mortimer. "I am going to let Forge know that everything went as expected. To help the healing, I suggest you follow Mr. Worthington's example."

Mortimer nods in agreement though not sure it is possible for him to sleep with how he is feeling. He wasn't sure if he ever felt this warm. But after a few minutes he drifts off to sleep, a light smile on his lips.

When he wakes up, he finds Warren sitting next to him on the right talking to Forge who is sitting on his left. They notice he is awake when he rubs his eyes.

"Look whose up! Feeling okay?" Warren asks.

"Ye...yes. Thank you Mister..." Mortimer starts to say before Warren raises a hand.

"Your welcome. Thanks for the nap. Forge here was just telling me that you will be staying. You're going to be in good hands," Warren tells him.

"Yeah, he will be," Forge adds, sounding very much like a promise to Mortimer.

"Well, there are a few others I want to catch up with. Nice meeting you Mortimer. Hope your recovery is a fast one," Warren wishes as he gets up, draping his long coat over his shoulder and leaves the infirmary.

Mort slowly looks over at Forge who is watching a screen that shows another x-ray version, this one a close up of the breaks in his legs. Mort acknowledges that he still feels the warmth and tingling sensation. As he looks at Forge, he notices how Forge chews the bottom right of his lip as he focuses, a crooked line in his trimmed beard just by his jawline, and even the oil handprint under his left ear. As Forge stares intently on the screen, he raises his hand to that very print and Mortimer see's the black smudges on his yellow glove.

"Everything looks really good. Hank says that if this keeps up, you could be walking out of here in three days," Forge informs Mort as he studies the screen.

"Three days? Really?" Mort asks, his golden eyes wide from the shock of the news, his mouth slightly hanging open.

"Three days. Of course Hank says you still have to take it easy and stretch out your muscles before doing any serious hoping," Forge tells him.

Mort closes his mouth and watches as Forge finally turns toward him. Mort takes a deep breath and tries to stay still as Forge reaches down and tenderly lifts up Mort's arm. He slowly begins to unwrap the bandages first on Mort's wrist then the ones down his arm. Then he does the same for the other one, taking only a moment to examine where the transfusion line was inserted in his vein. Mortimer doesn't say anything as Forge does this but marvels at the healed skin.

"The scratches appear to be completely healed. That's very good," Forge comments.

Forge throws away the bandages and picks up the modified gloves he had sitting nearby. Without meeting Mort's gaze, he slides on the long gloves. They are of black leather, fingerless but stretches from his wrist to his elbow. There are small black leather straps which helps hold the glove in place. Forge carefully does each one, making sure it's not too tight but also not to loose. He runs his finger down the leather which makes Mort shudder slightly.

"Your new gloves. I couldn't find any the other day so I put in a request. I know you need your fingers to help stick to walls and stuff," Forge shares, his voice sounding slightly strange to Mort.

"Uh...thank you," Mort replies in a low voice.

The two sit in silence for several minutes, looking anywhere but at each other. There is a slight beeping noise on the screen and Forge turns to it. Mort notices the look of relief on the other man's face. Forge nods and gets up.

"Well, I need to go take care of a few things. I'll be back to check on you later," Forge tells Mort before leaving the infirmary.

Sadly Mort notices that Forge seemed to have been in a hurry to leave. He raises his arm and examines the new glove. To him it seemed a bit like what he saw what Pietro called goth punks wear. But he did like them. He flexes his hand, listening to the crinkling of the new leather.

When he stops fiddling with the new gloves, he sighs. He had hoped that he would have been able to talk like he had been with Jon. Yet he found it incredible hard to do. A sign that he had changed. When he was in the Brotherhood, he often apologized though not without some false sarcasm. But for the past six months, he didn't apologize for anything. He simply did what he had to do.

He thinks about the way he was before the Brotherhood. At an early age he knew he was different. A stand out. Then again, when you are green, it's hard not to. So he started to hide. Specially behind those who seemed to be stronger. He could think of the countless examples. His strict mother, Jhonny the neighborhood bully, Kevin the town's gangster wanna be. All of them were stronger than he was. People feared them. So Mortimer was happy to be their lackey. He didn't even mind the bruises they often gave him. It was worth it for their protection.

So when the Brotherhood recruited him, he didn't hesitate. There was no doubt of their strength. But as he thought about their powers compared to his, he thinks about his mistake. He had no doubt about their strength, their power. So he had no doubt that they would protect him. And he had connected that to their willingness to keep him around. He should have known better. Then he realizes, he did know. After all, it was made crystal clear just before the dreaded Nitro event.

After they abandoned him, he was actually still in denial of what they did for some time. Somehow he convinced himself that he was being tested. To see if he could make it alone. Once he proved it, they would pick him up, tell him he just barely passed and take him to their new hideout. He still would be treated like a pest, never fully informed about their missions, still punished for his slip ups, but he would be with them again. He would be protected again.

It wasn't until that dreadful brother and sister pair that he started to face the facts. He knew they weren't going to come for him. They weren't even looking for him. He doubted very much that they thought of him now. If he would be honest with himself, while he was forced to work for that diabolical pair, he didn't want to be found. When there was a knock on his motel room door, he would panic. His mind would picture him opening the door and there would be Pietro, or Avalanche, or the Blob himself. They would all smile, knowing what is was doing. They would pick on him, laugh at him. Then they would...

Mortimer shakes his head to stop this line of thought. He tells himself he doesn't need to go there anymore. He pushes past it mentally and thinks about after he accepted the hard truth. How he made the decision to not hide behind anyone again. And with that choice, he withdrew from people. He had tried to convince himself that he was better off. People were only good for emptying their wallets either for services or him doing it personally.

It didn't matter that he had no one to rely on. No one to talk to. To ease his bad days, to make his nights less lonely. When he felt the sharp pain of loneliness, he would remind himself of all the times someone had physically hurt him. If that wasn't enough, he went through their words, their actions. He did his best to convince himself that he was better off without the pain. It was hard with the nightmares.

So now he was at a loss. He had slipped. He stopped telling himself he didn't need people when Jon began to make an effort to be friends. Mortimer tried at first to refuse. He tried desperately to bring up that wall between them. But something about Jon just made him stop. He didn't want to hide anymore. He wanted at least one person to know and see him. Just one. And Jon seemed to be willing to be that one person.

He thinks about Jon's mutant ability. To be honest he didn't know much about it. At first he thought it was the mechanical arm. But when he had asked about that, Jon started to go on a dialogue about the various upgrades he still needed to make to it and how simply awful the first prototype was. No, Jon's ability seemed to involve the man's creative and brilliant mind to fix and create things. Or something like that. Mortimer admits that some of the things he had built, like the Blackbird, were pretty cool. But the ability itself wasn't really powerful compared to that of the other X-men. He couldn't control the weather, make ice or optic blasts that could blast apart buildings in the blink of an eye. He couldn't read minds much less move objects with it. He wasn't very strong. Or fast. Or anything else.

Jon was very much like Mortimer in this aspect. Their mutant powers were useful, but only in certain situations. Certainly not for a team setting. Specially Jon's power. Mortimer admits that he could at least hop over the bad guys and spit slime. Actually, if he was as cold as some of the others, he could do some serious damage from the kicks of his legs. The most Jon could do was talk to them to death while he might build something to kick their butt with. Then again, maybe Jon has some tricks up in that mechanical arm. He couldn't see why Jon wouldn't have thought to make it somehow useful for fighting. And it is metal. A punch from that could hurt.

But maybe that was something they had in common. They simply did not like hurting people. Mortimer liked the idea that they had things in common. Made it easier to talk about some things rather than trying to describe it to someone who doesn't. He recalls a time when he tried to explain his feelings of lack to Pietro. He used the feelings of a fly about to be eaten by a spider scenario. Pietro actually laughed and asked what the heck was he even talking about before making some excuse to race away. Talking to someone who had at least had some understanding made things easier.

Yet there were things that were still hard to say to Jon. Apologizing apparently was one of them. So was talking about the past. Pain. And something else that Mortimer didn't know the word for. It was the something that had prevented himself from creating that wall between them. The something that made him look forward to seeing the X-man. The something that caused him pain when he thinks he upset Jon. The something that made him look closely at the black hair and bearded man when he believes he isn't going to notice. And the very thing that made Mortimer afraid about how Jon had been acting these last couple of days. He had no idea how to express these things to Jon which drove him crazy. Because deep down, he wanted at least one person to know him completely. And he wanted Jon to be that person.

It takes Mortimer a few minutes to realize he is watching the doorway. Sadly he turns away and tries to get a bit more sleep. When that fails, he counts the tiles going diagonally across the ceiling. He would deliberately miscount and start over.


	6. Chapter 6

Lost and Found

Chapter 6

Wolverine and the X-men fan fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolverine and the X-men. Not sure who does but it isn't me. Please do not sue me.

Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, violence and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.

Please leave feedback!  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Four days later, Mortimer is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at his legs. Hank was correct and his legs fully healed three days after the procedure. He touches his knees, surprise to feel not the smallest bit of pain. He bends his ankles and wiggles his toes, relived to see that everything was working.

He looks over to Hank who gives him an approving nod then to Forge who simply smiles. With a deep breath, Mortimer stands up. He felt just a moment of head rush but it quickly fades.

"Looking good so far," Hank comments. "Now try to walk towards me."

Mortimer nods his head and shifts his body to face Hank. Slowly he takes a wobbly steep forward with his right foot. He is a bit concern about how his legs feel like they are wrapped in cement but determined, he takes another step. Then another. With each step the sensation fades and he finds it easier to lift his feet. He passes Hank and walks to the doorway. By the time he reaches it, he no longer feels sluggish but like he was before the attack.

"Excellent. Well, I think it's safe to say you are free to leave. Try no to push yourself too much over the next few days. Of course I am encouraging to walk and stretch your legs but don't try to do a marathon any time soon. I expect to see you in three days to check your progress. Forge, he's all yours," Hank says with a smile.

Forge merely rolls his eyes before turning to follow Mort out of the infirmary. Once outside, Mort sighs and crouches down, stretching his legs. Forge slowly looks over Mort from behind. He is wearing black shorts and a matching black hooded T-shirt. Extras from the exercise room. It went well with the leather gloves. Mort hops forward.

"Hey! Hank said to take it easy!" Forge cries out, walking over to Mort.

"Oh, yeah. Just had to try it you know?" Mort replies as he stand up and looks over to Jon.

"Well you tried it. No more today. Should I grab the wheelchair to take you to the room or do you want to try walking there?" Forge asks.

"I'll try to walk," Mort replies.

Forge nods and walks over to a control console. He simply lays his hand on it, letting his hand print to be scanned. A door opens before them and Forge enters it, followed by Mort. It takes Mort a minutes to realize they are in an elevator. Forge hits one of the keys marked F3. Mort repeats this in his head a few times, hoping to remember it later.

When the doors opened, Forge walked out and continued down the hall a bit before noticing Mort isn't with him. He looks back and see's Mort peering out of the elevator nervously.

"You might want to hurry before getting stuck in there," Forge calls back with a small playful smile.

Hearing this, Mort quickly hops out of the elevator which makes Forge sigh.

"Room is just around the corner," Forge tells Mort after Mort hops next to him.

Forge shows him to the room, opening the second door after turning down the back hall. Forge walks in and again looks back to see a nervous Mort simply looking in the room rather than entering it.

"It's safe to enter. Come on, get in here already," Forge calls to Mort.

Mort enters the room and looks around slowly. He simply couldn't believe how big this room is! Not only that but it was clean and there was no signs of decay. He walks further into the room, glancing at the unmade bed closer to the door and the neater one next to it, separated only by a nightstand. He really liked the balcony view with the dark red drapes. He notices there are two bookcases in each corner, a large work bench across from the beds and finally two dressers on either side of the door. Mort turns back to Forge, his eyes wide with surprise.

"This is really our room?" He asks questionably.

"Yep. Though I'm often not in here for very long, it's where I crash when I'm allowed to. So you will probably be here more than I will," Forge comments.

Mort walks over to the workbench and looks closely at the few things that are on it curiously. Then he moves on to the bookshelves where a few more machine like items sit.

"Those are some unfinished prototypes of some of the weapons for the Danger room. One day I may actually finish them," Forge offers.

"They look really cool," Mort replies.

"What kinds of things are you into?" Forge questions, preparing to take mental notes. And hitting a button on his mechanical hand to record Mort's answers when he forgets.

"Ahh, I don't really know. Never had the time to get into stuff. Well, maybe I had the time but not the means," Mort answers.

"What about when you were with the Brotherhood? I mean, they weren't always out causing trouble," Forge asks in disbelief.

"No, they weren't. But I either watched whatever Blob watched on TV when there was cable or I was cleaning out of punishment. Mostly the second one," Mort replies.

"Hmm. What about when you were a kid?" Forge pries a bit more.

"As a kid? You mean besides being a master of hide and seek..." Mort trails off as he thinks quietly.

Forge is just about to hit the recording device off when Mort looks back over to Forge.

"I did like to sketch. And when my mom was out late I would sneak downstairs to watch old Alfred Hitchcock movies or the really old mystery films," Mort shares.

Mort notices Forge's eyebrows rise in surprise and suddenly Mort feels his face burn.

"Ah, I know, pretty lame," Mort flusters.

"No, no that's pretty cool. Well, if you are done looking around in here, I can show you the rest of the institute. After that, I can either bring you back here or you can tag along while I work on some things on the Blackbird. If it's still in the hanger," Forge replies as he seems to think about the last thing he said.

"Okay," Mort replies as he joins Forge.

A few hours later, Mortimer is watching Forge pull himself into the the engine space of the Blackbird. When they had came in, Mortimer was surprised to see the shape of the great X-jet. It looked like it had gone through some war zone. He remembers hearing Forge moan at the sight of it. Now Forge was muttering about Wolverine and how for once he would like to see this jet come back from a nice simple flight cruise rather than combating so and so.

Mort crouches down and opens the tool box that Forge had brought in with them. Knowing he couldn't do much, he was determined to at least pass the tools Forge will need if nothing else. That and he rather enjoyed the sounds of Jon's muttering and complaints.

"Gathering any useful information?" A voice behind him asks.

Nervously, Mort looks back and see's Cyclops approaching him.

"Or doing a bit of sabotage?" Cyclops questions, his visor glowing just slightly.

"Uh...neither," Mort answers.

"Yeah right Toad," Cyclops replies, standing before Toad and glaring down at him. "Why don't you just hop out of here already?"

"Uh because he's helping me," Forge answers, dropping out of the jet and walking up to Cyclops.

Mort cowers, sensing a fight is about to erupt.

"Helping you? You would believe something like that. I heard you are even sharing a room with him. What's that about?" Cyclops asks, the chill clear in his voice.

"Why is that important? Afraid we are going to do something you're not?" Forge returns just as coldly.

"Listen Forge! He's a known member of the Brotherhood for Christ sakes! You're sharing a room with a terrorist and our known enemy!" Cyclops yells at Forge.

"Former member, Scott. And who I share a room with is not only none of your business but my choice," Forge answers, glaring back at Cyclops.

"He claims to be a former member. How do you know he isn't lying?" Cyclops demands.

"How are you so sure he is?" Forge asks back.

"Dammit Forge! You haven't fought with the Brotherhood. You don't know them. You don't know him despite what you think," Cyclops tells Forge, taking a step forward.

"I know him better than I know you right now," Forge replies, crossing his arms firmly.

"Whose side are you on anyway?" Cyclops mutters before turning and storming off.

"Remember that next time you take the Blackbird!" Forge shouts.

He blows out angrily and looks down at Mort. He notices the young man is trembling as he watches the direction Cyclops had stormed off.

"Mort?"

"May...maybe I should just go back to our room," Mort comments fearfully.

"No. Just ignore Scott. He's know for having a stick up his butt," Forge replies before climbing back into the jet. "Could you pass me the wrench?"

Mortimer doesn't reply, he simply watches the direction Cyclops had gone.

"Mort? Wrench?" Forge calls again.

"Oh, one sec," Mort replies and he quickly grabs the tool and passes it to Forge. After a few minutes, he forgets about Cyclops and focuses on Forge and his complaints about the various repairs he has to do yet again.

The next morning, Mort wakes up in a very comfortable bed. He stretches and looks over to Forge's bed, seeing the engineer still asleep, snoring lightly. Mort smiles at seeing the goggles still on his forehead but askew. Quietly he gets up and creeps towards the balcony. He shifts the drape aside enough for him to look out. He rubs his eyes from the bright light and then looks about. He notices the beautiful gardens and the little water fountain out front. He remembers Forge talking about having to repair a line in it sometime.

"Mmm...Mort?" Forge's voice calls out.

Mort let's go off the drape, letting it fall into place. He mutters a curse under his breath before looking back towards Forge, expecting him to be sitting up awake. But to his surprise, Forge is still asleep. He carefully moves closer.

"Jon?" Mort whispers.

"Mort...sorry," Forge mutters, his face scrunching up.

Mort eyes widen and he moves closer, crouching next to the bed.

"About what?" Mort whispers, the curiosity getting the best of him.

Forge doesn't answer but merely snores for a few minutes. Confused, Mort goes back towards the balcony.

"I...want...I do...want...love you," Forge mumbles before rolling over.

Mort freezes for a few minutes. Then he looks back to where Forge is sleeping, his eyes wide. Slowly he walks back over to the bed his room mate is sleeping in, watching his room mate.

"You said...you said you wanted nothing from me," Mort whispers.

He starts to tremble as he watches Forge. Suddenly he walks over to his dresser and quietly gets dressed. When he's finished, he takes a deep breath and leaves the room.

Outside the bedroom he backs into Bobby.

"Hey!" Bobby cries out and looks over at Toad.

"Ah!" Toad cries out and quickly shields himself with his arms.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Bobby asks, looking puzzled at Toad.

Toad looks up at Bobby with a similar expression.

"Ain't you going to do something to me?" Toad asks nervously.

"Umm...no. Not unless you meant to do that?" Bobby questions.

"N...no," Toad answers.

"Then no. I gotta go now. Danger room session. You going?" Bobby asks.

Toad shakes his head no. Bobby shakes his own head and continues down the hall. It wasn't until he was out of sight before Mort releases a breath. When the bedroom door opens behind him though, he still gasps and jumps.

"Ah, there you are. Ready for breakfast?" Forge asks, rubbing his eyes.

Mort nods in agreement, watching Forge warily.

"Okay. Just wait a minute for me to get dress. Then we steal some breakfast while everyone else is at the Danger room session," Forge tells Mort before closing the door.

Mort is at a lost for what to do so he waits. When Forge leaves the room, Mort follows him but leaves a few steps between them.


	7. Chapter 7

Lost and Found

Chapter 7

Wolverine and the X-men fan fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolverine and the X-men. Not sure who does but it isn't me. Please do not sue me.

Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, violence and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.

Please leave feedback!  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

A couple of hours later, they are back with the Blackbird, finishing the repairs from the day before. Mort still passes the tools but is distracted by what he heard this morning. Finally, he decides to bring up the topic.

"Have you ever shared a room with anyone before?" Mort asks tentatively.

"Huh? Not for a long time. Why?" Forge asks.

"No reason," Mort answers quickly.

"No, tell me why you asked. Do I snore or something?" Forge asks as he works.

"Well...you do snore. But not loud or anything. You are a lot quieter than Blob was," Mort offers.

"Huh. Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Forge replies.

"There is...something else you do when you sleep," Mort continues.

"Oh boy. I wasn't putting something together again was I? Because I hate when I do that," Forge shares.

"You build things in your sleep?" Mort asks in shock.

"A few times. It's a pain because then I have to take it apart to figure what I just built," Forge explains.

"Oh. Well, no you didn't do that. You...talk in your sleep," Mort reveals.

"I talk in my sleep? That I didn't know. Please tell me I didn't say anything embarrassing," Forge replies.

"Umm...you said...you were sorry," Mort shares slowly, rubbing his hands nervously.

"Sorry? I wonder what for," Forge muses.

"You said that you wanted something and that you...love me," Mort finishes, his breathing becoming unsteady.

"Ah!" Forge cries out, followed by a loud thump as he hits his head on the interior of the jet.

Forge then steps back, his foot slips and he falls out of the Blackbird with a thud.

"Forge!" Mort cries out and quickly hops over to Forge's side.

But Forge waves him away and awkwardly covers his face.

"Forge?" Mort asks, afraid the engineer badly hurt himself.

"I can't believe I said that. I am so mortified. I'd rather have Wolverine slice up the jet in front of me," Forge mumbles.

"Wh...what?"Mort asks, beginning to panic as he believes Jon must of hit his head pretty hard.

"Dang it, now you are probably freaked out about me," Forge mutters.

"Well...I was earlier. Now I'm freaked out about you hitting your head. Are you okay? Should I try to find my way to the lab for Hank?" Mort asks.

"I'm fine. Physically anyway. I'm really sorry Mort," Forge apologizes quietly. "Can we just write it off as crazy sleep talk?"

"Crazy...sleep talk? That's it, move your arm," Mort orders as he grabs Forge's arm and tries to pull it away.

Suddenly an optic blast hits right next to Mort who hops away from Forge and the blast with natural reflexes. He looks back and see's the X-men approaching towards him, Cyclops in the front.

"I warned you Forge! Bobby!" Cyclops calls out.

Mort see's the blonde hair kid suddenly turn to ice and raise his hand. Thinking quickly, Mort slimes the iceman in the face before quickly hopping toward the wall.

Meanwhile Forge is quickly getting up.

"Stop! Cyclops!" Forge shouts.

Scott looks over to Forge and growls. There is a trickle of blood coming down from the right side of Forge's forehead.

"Nightcrawler, he's going up the wall," Scott calls out.

With a puff, Nightcrawler teleports from behind Scott and right before Mort who is trying to quickly climb up the wall. Mort is caught off guard as Nightcrawler lands a fist into the right side of his face. Just as quickly, using his abilities to his advantage, Nightcrawler teleports behind Mort and grapples him. With a quick flip, he tosses Mort back to the ground near the others. Mort cries out when he hits the ground and tries to position himself to hop again when a blast of ice freezes his legs to the ground.

Filled with panic and terror he tries to pull his legs out of the ice until he notices the group surrounding him. Shaking he covers his face with his arms, waiting for the beating to start. He hears a blast hit the ground and he flinches, closing his eyes tightly.

"Forge! What do you think you're doing?!" Cyclops yells out.

Peeking between his fingers, Mort looks over in the direction of Jon. He is surprised to see Jon holding up what should be his mechanical arm. But it is now a large cannon like gun. He notices it glowing brightly.

"Back away from him now," Forge demands.

Mort shivers at the tone of Jon's voice. He is staring at Forge, not recognizing the dark expression in his friend's face.

"What in the blazes is going on here!" Wolverine shouts out, drawing everyone's attention.

"Toad attacked Forge. I knew it was only a matter of time," Scott answers, glaring down at Toad who again closes his eyes and cowers away the best he can despite his frozen legs.

"That's not what happened! I hit my head when working on the jet then I fell. He had nothing to do with it," Forge explains.

"Likely story," Scott dismisses the explanation.

"Enough! I don't have time to deal with this. Scott, blast the ice. Kurt, teleport him to his room. Lock him in and then get back here. Forge, can the jet fly?" Wolverine orders.

"Yeah, but Logan," Forge starts to reply, his hand shifting back into it's previous form.

"Can it Forge! We'll deal with this matter when we get back. Right now I want you to get this bird ready to fly, now," Wolverine states firmly.

Mort hears a blast that shatters the ice around his legs. Before he could do anything, Nightcrawler puts a hand on his shoulder and teleports the both of them out of the Danger room.

When they appear in the room, they are on Forge's bed. Before Mort could think to do anything, Nightcrawler is gone. He hears the click of their door being locked from the outside then a similar click at their balcony doorway. When there was no further noise, Mort knows he is alone. He hugs his knees afraid to move. His right hand tries to scratch his left arm but hearing the leather scraping, he stops with a small defeated moan.

Hours later he wakes up to someone shaking his shoulder. Alert, he looks to Nightcrawler.

"Logan asked me to take you to the Professor's office," Nightcrawler explains.

Mort swallows and nods his head, flinching as Nightcrawler once again touches his shoulder and teleports them.

By the time Nightcrawler leaves him in the office with Wolverine, Mortimer is shaking. The man is once again in civilian clothing and looking rather ragged. Not all that much different from before. He is looking out the large window, to the grounds below. Several minutes pass before the Canadian sighs and turns around.

"I really have no experience in these things. Charles always handled this situations," Logan mutters.

Mortimer says nothing, watching the man's hands for signs of those claws.

"Anyway. I talked with both Forge and Cyclops. I believe what Forge said had happened and that you were not at fault," Logan shares as he looks over to Mort. He raises an eyebrow at the sight he sees. Toad is standing with his arms hugging himself, his large golden eyes showing clearly how terrified he is. Something about this makes Logan question how old Toad is because he looks much like a lost kid. He reminds himself to try to be gentle with the guy.

"You're not in any trouble. So relax," Logan tells Toad.

Mort doesn't say anything.

"Moving on I guess. It looks like you have made the recovery Hank was hoping for. So I guess it's time to discuss your options," Logan continues.

Mortimer let's out a slight moan. He was afraid this would come up. He remembers what Jon had told him but he simply couldn't bring himself to believe it.

"You are welcome to stay here. This can be your home if you want it to. There isn't any expectations we have other than preferring you not causing any trouble," Logan states.

Mortimer's eyes widen.

"Re...really?" Mortimer asks.

"Really. There is no reason for you to have to live on the streets if you don't have to. Everyone, including Cyclops, agrees with this. You might not be popular at the moment but everyone deserves a place to call home," Logan replies.

Mortimer looks away, taking this in. Despite what happened earlier, he is starting to feel very good.

"You're also invited to attend the Danger room sessions. Hank wants you to wait a few more days before actually joining them though. They will not be mandatory for you. It's just an offer. You are free to go about as you like. Forge is making you an image inducer, similar to the one Kurt has so you can go out in public without fear of being picked up by the MRD. I do encourage you not to be having the thing on all the time. Just when you are out in public," Logan explains.

Mortimer unwraps his arms, relaxing as the conversation continues.

"Finally, and this part I am simply no good at. But if you feel the need to talk to someone other than Forge about anything, come find me. I will try to spare a few minutes to help you out," Logan offers. "So is there anything you want to discuss now?"

"Ah...no," Mortimer answers quietly.

"Well, the offer is there. One last thing, what is your name? Or should I continue calling you Toad?" Logan asks. He already knows Mortimer's name from reading the Cerebro files and the MRD files on the guy but he recalls the Professor using a similar method to gain trust.

"Huh, oh, my name is Mortimer. Mortimer Toynbee. Mort is okay though," Mort answers.

"Mort huh? Well, we're done here Mort. Go ahead and hop back to Forge. Man's been muttering like crazy sense we left," Logan finishes, turning back to the window.

Mort nods and walks out of the office. Logan releases a sigh.

"I ain't cut out for this Charles," he mutters to the empty office.

After a few minutes, Mort finds his way to his room. He enters and finds Forge sitting at the workbench, deeply concentrating on a device similar to the wristband Mort had on earlier.

"Tracker's been recalculated, now to move this over to fit in the hologram chip..." He mutters, pausing only to adjust his goggles.

Mort is intrigued at seeing the engineer working so delicately that he slowly moves closer to watch.

"It's not the same quality as Kurt's use to be but I'm pretty sure it'll work. Now to attach a..." Forge mutters, picking up a watch face.

Mort watches in silence as Forge's mechanical hand shifts into various tiny tools. Several minutes laters, Forge sighs and looks over to Mort with a smile.

"All done. For now anyway. Just have to download a image for you," Forge announces.

"An image?" Mort replies, slightly confused.

"I'll show you! Now if I remember right, I tossed it in here...or did I leave it over there?" Forge again mutters, digging through a box of random devices.

There is a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Forge calls.

Mort turns to see who comes in as Forge gets up and starts looking through the devices on the bookshelves. Someone Mort doesn't recognize enters the room. He is a tall gentleman with short brown hair and a slight mustache. He resembled greatly an old actor Mortimer used to watch when there were no mystery movies on. Some guy named Flynn.

"Hey Kurt. Thanks for stooping by," Forge states without turning around, moving to the next bookcase.

"No problem. Least I could do after the earlier incident. Though it took me a bit to find it," Kurt replies. "Vhich by the vay, my sincere apologies," Kurt tells Mort, offering his hand out.

"Ahh...who are you?" Mort asks, looking at the stranger questionably.

The man's eyes widen before laughing for a moment. Mort looks back over to Forge, then back at the stranger, growing more confused by the moment. Finally the man regains himself and he holds up his right arm with a watch on his wrist. The man presses a button and the stranger sudden disappears, revealing an all too familiar blue mutant known as Nightcrawler. Mort hops back, suddenly nervous.

"Easy! I von't harm you. Forge asked me to stop by and show you vhat the image inducer vill do," Nightcrawler explains.

"Image inducer? Wolverine mentioned something about it. It let's us go out there without getting attacked," Mort repeats.

"Ja, that is the idea," Kurt agrees, turning the image inducer on again.

Mort moves closer, looking for any signs of the X-man's mutation. He is stunned to find that even Nightcrawler's tail seems to have disappear.

"Found it!" Forge cries out, getting up from under his bed with what looks like a remote in his hand.

Forge sits down on the bed and points the device at Mort, moving it slowly from Mortt's head to his feet.

"Turn around please," Forge requests.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Mot asks as he does what Forge asks.

"He is copying your current appearance so the image inducer can cover you completely vith a new one. It seems veird, but I assure you, it's necessary. First time he did it to me, he didn't scan my tail. So I looked like some dude vith a costume tail attached," Kurt explains.

"Got it. Now both of you come here and help pick a new image," Forge tells them as he is already fiddling with the controls.

Kurt offers Mort a smile and walks over to Forge. Mort does the same with a single hop and crouches just behind Forge, looking over his shoulder.

"Alright, let's start with the basics. I think we should stick with the shape of your face but umm...maybe make your eyes a bit smaller," Forge states as he quickly hits a few buttons.

"Uh, those are too small there Herr Forge," Kurt comments with a disturbed expression.

"Yeah, you're right. Ah there! What do you think Mort?" Forge asks.

"Umm those look good," Mort comments. He couldn't believe what Forge was doing. The image still showed him green but his eyes were smaller, normal looking.

"Vhat color vill they be? I know from experience that yellow or golden eyes still draw attention," Kurt shares.

"Good point. Mort?" Forge asks.

"Oh...um...would green be too weird?" He asks nervously.

"I don't think so. Let's move to the skin tone. I don't think we need to mess with your hair," Forge continues.

"Hey! How come I get the palest complexion but you make him so dark?!" Kurt cries out.

"Oh give me a minute! That is too dark anyway. Almost had you looking like Samuel Jackson with dreadlocks," Forge mutters.

"There!" All three call out at the same time when they see a normal peach colored tone.

Kurt and Forge laugh at the outburst while Mort moves closer, pressing against Forge's back to look at this new image. It had his clothes and the black dreadlocks, even his sharp chin but other wise it looked like an everyday guy. Except for the teeth.

"It's almost done," Mort comments.

"Almost? Is there something I'm missing? " Forge asks.

"Ja. Same detail you miss vith me. Look at the mouth," Kurt points out.

"Oh, that," Forge comments. He frowns and enters a few more commands. "Now it's complete, right?"

"Ja, looks good to me," Kurt offers.

Forge looks back at Mort who smiles and nods. Forge gets up and goes back to the work bench. He pulls out a long cord and inserts it into the wristband. After a few more key presses, he disconnects them and turns around, holding up the bracelet.

"All set. Ready to check it out?" Forge asks.

Mort gets up and walks over slowly. He holds out his arm, ignoring the déjà vu sensation and let's Forge put it on.

"Just hit that button and it should work," Forge tells Mort.

"Do you describe all your inventions with the words should work?" Mort asks, making Kurt snicker.

"Trust me," Forge simply replies, rolling his eyes.

Mort nods and he hits the button. He waits and starts to wonder if it didn't work when Kurt whistles.

"Vow, now I'm jealous," Kurt comments as he looks at him.

"Hey, you are the one obsesses with Errol Flynn. Besides, I can't work miracles but once a day," Forge replies coolly.

"Is it working then?" Mort asks.

"Ja, it's corking alright. Forge, you have a mirror somevhere?" Kurt asks.

"Uh...no actually," Forge replies.

Nightcrawler sighs. "I vill be right back."

Mort watches as Nightcrawler vanishes in a bit of smoke. He looks to Forge who is staring directly at Mort.

"Does it look okay?" Mort asks, growing nervous about the image that is suppose to be covering him.

"Huh, oh yeah. It's really good. Why you ask?" Forge questions.

"Because you are staring at me," Mort replies.

This response turns Forge's face a deep red as he quickly looks away. He is about to say something when Kurt teleports back into the room.

"Here you go. Borrowed it from Kitty," Kurt tells Mort as he passes the hand mirror.

Mort accepts the mirror, his hand shaking slightly. Slowly he turns it and looks at himself. His jaw nearly hits the ground. Just like the image Forge had created, Mort now looks like a normal human being. He experiments with widening his eyes and moving his mouth, watching his mirror image doing the same. He looks up and smiles at Forge and Kurt.

"This is the coolest thing!" he shares excitedly.

"Ja, that's how I felt too. But it's very important to not be so dependent on it. Ve are vho ve are, not even that device hides that," Kurt reminds Mort.

Mort nods, looking back at the mirror and his smiling hologram self.

"How about ve go out and get some dinner?" Kurt suggests.

"Ah, this late?!" Forge cries out. He had been thinking about making the same suggestion but without Kurt's added company. He felt he still needed to explain his confession.

"Ja, vhy not? Vhat do you think?" Kurt asks Mort.

"Ah...I kinda am...broke," Mort mutters.

"No vorried. I vill pay for you. I'll meet both of you downstairs in a few minutes?" Kurt asks.

"Okay!" Mort replies excitedly, looking over to Forge with a begging expression.

"Yeah, we will be down in a few," Forge agrees, unable to look at Mort's too cute expression.

Kurt smiles and teleports away. Mort puts down the hand mirror on the workbench. He notices Forge's trouble expression.

"Is something wrong? Do you not want to go?" Mort asks, looking disappointed.

"No, I want to go. Just, there is something I want to say first," Forge tells Mort, taking a deep breath.

"O-okay?"

"It's about what I said when I was sleeping," Forge starts to explain.

"Oh that. It's okay. I've been thinking about it too," Mort shares.

"You have?" Forge asks nervously.

"Yeah. I think I figured it out. I don't think you were talking to me directly. But dreaming you were with someone else when you said you love them. Am I right? There's someone you love?" Mort asks.

Forge's jaw drops open. He looks over to Mort who is looking through his dresser for the jacket Forge had given him.

"Ye...yeah there's someone I love," Forge admits.

Mort looks back, the jacket in his hand, offering Forge a smile.

"It's weird to be right for a change," Mort tells Forge. "Ready to go?"

"Go ahead, I'll be down in a minute," Forge replies.

He watches Mort hop to the door, a strange sight with his image inducer on. He notices Mort's excitement as he runs out the bedroom door.

"You're only half right. The person I love is you," Forge says into the quiet room. He sighs deeply, throwing himself back on the bed and covering his face with the pillow as he gives an agitated yell into it. When it passes, he gets up and tosses the pillow aside. He rubs his beard for a moment before getting up and quickly leaving to meet the others.


	8. Chapter 8

Lost and Found

Chapter 8

Wolverine and the X-men fan fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolverine and the X-men. Not sure who does but it isn't me. Please do not sue me.

Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, violence and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.

Please leave feedback!  
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The next few days, Forge really enjoys seeing Mortimer's small changes. After a night out on the town with Kurt, Mort mostly stopped avoiding the others. He started to greet them and try to strike up conversations. Most seemed surprise and accepted his efforts, specially Kitty, Rogue, Bobby and Jean. The only one he seemed on edge with is Scott but Forge figured that might be for the best.

As he tinkered with the security system, he wondered how Mort's first Danger room exercise is going. For the past two days Mort had been considering to go after Hank said he was ready. Last night Mort told him he had decided to give it a try. Forge said that was great to hear. But now that he was without his help, Forge couldn't help but wished that Mort had chosen to stick with him. Not because the jobs were harder or anything, simply because he enjoyed Mort's company.

Forge sighs. He is happy for Mort. But something is off. Forge feels like Mort is somehow leaving him behind. He is no longer needed now that Mort is making friends with the others. That thought depresses Forge greatly. Feeling useless always does. Sure he will always be needed to repair things. Build others. But when it comes to things that really matter, like fighting with the others, well he always gets left behind. The glory belongs to the others.

Not that he minded much. He hated to admit it but he was actually terrified of battle. He remembers the one time he pumped himself up, he had to, and it was all for nothing. Got an embarrassed look from Logan and the sympathies of the others. He hated it. But was also relived that nothing had happened.

But to feel not needed by Mort was killing him. There was no relief. Only a hollow feeling.

He shakes his head as if to shake away the thoughts and tries to get back into the project he has been working on. But after a few minutes he gives up and in frustration throws one of his tools at the door.

It hits just as the door is opening, and he hears the other person give a familiar yelp.

"Mort!" Forge cries out, thinking for just a moment that the sound the door made when the tool hit was actually from hitting Mort rather than the door.

"Is...is something wrong?" Mort asks, hiding behind the door in case more tools fly.

"It's okay Mort. Come on in," Forge replies.

Carefully Mort comes in, stopping to pick up the tool. Forge looks away. He hadn't been able to meet Mort's gaze for long without nearly saying something foolish and revealing.

"How was the training session?" Forge asks, hoping the subject will cause Mort to stop looking at him fearfully.

"It was different. Screwed up more than anything. Nearly got blasted into the crushing walls by Cyclops," Mort shares, looking away. He did so poorly that he was too embarrassed to talk about it.

"Well, Bobby must be grateful it wasn't him getting blasted," Forge tries to joke.

But neither laugh. Forge glances at Mort and notices the trouble expression.

"Something wrong Mort? Worried about how bad the training session went?" Forge questions.

"No. Nothing's wrong," Mort answers as he walks over to his bed.

"Oh...okay," Forge replies weakly.

Forge frowns as he turns back to his workbench.

"Are you mad at me?" Mort asks quietly as he looks down to his feet.

"Mad? Why are you asking me that?" Forge asks surprisingly. He quickly turns around and faces Mort.

"You have been acting different. Is it because I decided to go to the training sessions?" Mort asks desperately.

"Acting different?" Forge repeats. He hadn't realize Mort was observing him so closely.

"More...withdrawn. Specially when I talk with the others. You always disappear," Mort points out.

"Sorry. Just..." Forge tries to think of some explain action to give.

"Do you not want to talk to me anymore?" Mort asks, his voice cracks.

"What? No. Dang it Mort there's something I just can't tell you!" Forge blurts out.

Mortimer suddenly looks up, meeting Forge's gaze.

"What is it?" Mort asks directly.

"I said I can't tell you. I shouldn't have even said that!" Forge replies. He gets up, irritably, and goes for the door.

Mort suddenly turns and spits sticky slime on the door knob just as Forge is reaching for it.

"What the!" Forge cries out, trying to pull his hand away from the goo.

"Tell me! Please!" Mort pleads.

"You are the one acting different Mort! When you first came here, you were keeping yourself from everyone. I had to work to gain your trust and be your friend. Now you are so easily trusting. You're not holding back like you did with me," Forge rants.

"Wait! So this is because I am trying to trust the others?" Mort asks, his voice filled with suspicion.

"No!" Forge shouts in response as he decides to stick his hand in the goo anyway.

"Then what?!" Mort cries out, hoping over Forge and placing himself in front of the door, looking up at Forge with panic.

"I said I can't tell you Mort," Forge tries to say evenly.

"Yes you can. I won't move until you do. What did I do wrong?" Mort asks stubbornly.

"You didn't do anything. Maybe you did but that was a long time ago. Forget it, just get out of my way," Forge demands and with his free hand he tries to push Mort away.

But Mort dodges, crouching low but keeping himself firmly against the door.

"Tell me!" Mort shouts.

"You want something to freak out about?! You want to be afraid?" Forge yells his questions at Mort. 

Hearing this Mort cowers, bracing himself to get the stuffing beaten out of him. He doesn't believe Forge would actually do so but then again, he didn't think Forge would say such things or act this way either.

"The morning where I said I love you, they were for the person I care about. And that person is you. I didn't mean to but I've fallen for you. I do want you. For myself, no else. I've been growing jealous! There you go. Now you know. And you don't need to tell me that you want me to go away. I already know that. So just move aside and let me go," Forge mutters this last part and tries to open the door again.

But Mort doesn't move. Forge fights the urge to look down, both his stomach and mind twisting. But finally he drops his gaze only to find Mort looking down as the ground.

"Let me get out of here Mort," Forge repeats.

"No," Mort replies firmly.

"Mort..." Forge starts to feel like he's suffocating.

"I want you to tell me the truth. None of that BS about I being the one you care about either," Mort interrupts, his tone disturbingly dark.

Forge blinks. He couldn't possibly believe Mort right now.

"I told you the truth," Forge states.

"No. No there is no way that's the truth!" Mort yells, finally looking up and glaring at Forge.

"It is," Forge states firmly.

"Stop lying. You said you wanted nothing from me. Those were your words weren't they? That there was nothing anyone wanted from me including yourself," Mort says coolly.

"Yeah I said that. But things changed," Forge replies.

"Yeah...yeah they have," Mort mutters before suddenly kicking Forge mechanical leg.

Forge let's out a startled cry as he falls and has to quickly roll back to miss the door from connecting his face. He manages to do so just barely. He still flinches when the door slams shut.

"That went so well..." Forge moans.


	9. Chapter 9

Lost and Found

Chapter 9

Wolverine and the X-men fan fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolverine and the X-men. Not sure who does but it isn't me. Please do not sue me.

Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, violence and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.

WARNING: This chapter is not a pleasant one. To add to the warning this chapter involves a suicide attempt of a particular character. So please be cautious reading this. My apologies before hand.

Note: I use the name "Jon" as Forge's real name as a comic line mentions that this may be his real name. So basically Jon=Forge. Hope there is no confusion.

Please leave feedback!  
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Meanwhile Mort is quickly heading down the hall. He has no clue where he's going but he feels, he needs to get away. Things with Forge has just gotten weird. He wasn't bothered that Forge said he loved him. Mortimer had secretly fantasied such a confession. But it was not a true confession. There is no way that it could be a real one. No, he tells himself. It certainly wasn't a real confession.

It was a indirect way to tell Mort to go away. Somehow, Forge must have found out that Mortimer did more than like him as a friend. Maybe one of the others noticed and told him. There were telepaths in the building. Not to mention a scary Canadian who seems to sense things. Either way, Forge, Jon, had found out. And that's why he has been distant. The idea probably makes him sick. He remembers various comments from his former team mates who made sure to remind him of such facts.

He glances at his hands. He glares down at the green skin, the dark spots, and the webbing that is covered by the black leather. And those dang monstrous claws! Not a single normal human trait in them! He growls as he tears at the straps and roughly pulls the glove off, baring his arm.

For just a brief moment he pictures another hand taking his, the warmth flesh wrapping around his fingers. Not hesitating, not shaking to touch his own green slick skin. He quickly closers his eyes and shakes his head. He repeats a single thought over and over again. It will never happen.

He drops the glove on the ground and slowly removes the other one. Again he studies his exposed arm before sighing and continuing down the hall and eventually the stairs. He wished he hadn't pushed Forge. But he needed to hear it. He needed to hear that despite the last few weeks, that Forge had reached his limit concerning being friendly. Probably the very moment he found out about Toad's feelings.

He stops suddenly, halfway down the stairs, gripping on the bannister for support. Suddenly it was becoming hard to breath. He whimpers as his dark thoughts beat him down mentally. The disgusting Toad fell in love with the only one at first to try to be friends with him. The person who may have saved his life in fact. Not only is he the most disgusting mutant alive, but he was filthy too. The hands of those men, though not visible, had left their mark on him. Late at night, he could feel their skin touching his, their hot, sometimes liquor smelling, breath in his face. The pain from when they used him. It hurt every time, no matter how many times a day or night he did it.

Not to mention the times after when he would lead a stranger into an alley, have him stand against a wall as Mort sunk to his knees in front of them. Knowing that alone, who would ever want to kiss him? Even if his sharp teeth didn't deter them, that knowledge would.

Even if by some miracle Jon had meant that confession, and Mort feels that small tingle of hope that he quickly buries, Mortimer could never accept it. He was too tainted to allow it to happen. And Jon is too good to spoil. If Jon catches something, for Mortimer could not say if he had something or not, he would be crushed by the guilt for the rest of his life.

And then he realizes he is already feeling the weight of that guilt. It's why he couldn't breath right now. He messed up somehow and ruined things for Forge. Made things uncomfortable. He had once again made a mess of things. A tightness occurs in his chest. What if Forge abandons him? Maybe that is what the X-men was trying to build up to? Mort nods to no one. That was it. The thing Forge couldn't say. It wasn't a confession. That was just his way of trying to...be gentle? Some warped way to tell him that he cares but needs to get away. Jon did have a odd way to his thinking unless it's with building things, and sometimes even with that. But so far Mort has been able to fill in the gaps. Which he believes he's doing now.

And wow did it hurt. If only he knew where he slipped up. But then he realizes that didn't matter. Caught off guard by the false confession, he pretty much confirmed things if Jon had any doubts. He wasn't even smart enough to lie or act like it was nothing. He was never smart enough. Not only was he hideous and filthy but stupid too.

"Mr Toynbee?" Hank calls out.

Mortimer tenses. He looks over behind him and notice's Hank about to climb the stairs.

"Is everything alright? You appear to be rather flush," Hank comments, clearly concern.

"Ah...no I'm okay. I just..." Mort tries to think of some excuse. As he thinks, he lets go of the bannister and takes a step down. But his foot slips and he falls down the remaining steps with a startled cry.

"Mr. Toynbee!" Beast calls out and drops the book in his hand. He quickly jumps over to the younger mutant who slowly sits up.

"Are you alright? Did you hit your head?" Hank questions.

"Err, I'm alright. Just slipped," Mortimer mumbles.

"Forgive me Mr. Toynbee but I don't buy it. I'm going to help you up and then we're going to the infirmary for a examination," Hank replies.

Mortimer doesn't miss the no nonsense tone and simply nods his head. He accepts Beast's offered hand and tenderly gets up.

An hour later he is sitting on the edge on the medical bed. Beast was looking over the results from some of the tests he had made Mort go through. He sighs and smiled over to Mortimer.

"It appears you only have some minor bruises. And been under some obvious stress. But nothing serious. You're free to go Mr. Toynbee," Hanks says with a smile.

Mortimer nods and gets up. He notices a medical supply tray prepared near the door and a particular instrument that he can't help to look at as certain thoughts swirl around his mind.

"Mr...uh, Hank? What kinds of things would show up in those tests?" Mortimer asks, breaking away his gaze.

"Is there something you are concerned about?" Hank asks, looking up curiously from the reports.

"Well...I'm...in the past I...did things," Mortimer tries to form the words.

"Yes, I'm unfortunately aware of that. Don't worry Mr. Toynbee. You are clean," Hank shares.

"Clean?" Mortimer replies with surprise.

"Yes," Hank confirms.

"Th...thank you," Mortimer replies.

"Good day Mr.Toynbee. And may I suggest you pass on tomorrow's training session," Hank finishes as he turns away to shut down some equipment. Mortimer gets up and walks over to the medical tray. He glances back at Hank and quickly picks up the scalpel before hurrying out the door.

Meanwhile, after laying on the bedroom floor for some unknown amount of time, Forge made his way to Cerebro to meet with Jean Grey. He nearly forgot about making the adjustments he had promised until Jean sent him a mental reminder. So now he is bent over and actually close to following into the console. When Jean tried it, nothing happened. Absolutely nothing happened. Then he smelt the burning wires. He couldn't figure out how they became fried. They were old but not that old. He pinches the last cable.

"Almost ready Forge?" Jean asks patiently.

"Yup. Finishing the last new wire now," Forge replies.

He gets it into place and pushes himself back out of the console.

"Alright, that should do it," Forge says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He is still feeling lousy after the confrontation with Mort but he's hoping she doesn't notice it. The other members don't like him working on things when he's distracted. Things tend to spark then go boom.

"Nothing better go boom," Jean warns sternly as she picks up the head piece and puts it on.

"Oh, uh, nothing should go boom," Forge mutters.

"Hope not. Else wise you will be forced to watch Logan go all out in the Danger room rather than making out, I mean up, with Toad," Jean says with a sly smile.

"Ah!" Is all Forge could say as he turns a deep red.

"Alright, let's try this again," Jean continues.

She closes her eyes and Cerebro begins to humm alive. Forge watches the machine closely, relieved that there is no signs of sparks.

"You did well Forge. Thank you," Jean comments.

”Your welcome. Should I stay just in case or?" Forge asks.

"No you may...mmm," Jean moans in discomfort.

"Jean?!" Forge calls out in alarm.

Jean opens her eyes with a gasp and quickly turns to Forge.

"Upstairs! Bathroom on the right corridor! You need to hurry Forge!" Jean tells Forge, the panic straining her voice.

"The bathroom?" Forge repeats confusingly.

"Mortimer is going to kill himself!" She yells at him as she takes off the head piece.

Forge doesn't ask anymore questions as he bolts out of the room. Jean mentally alerts the others and warns Hank to prepare the infirmary.

Meanwhile, Mort turns the look on the bathroom door. His hands are shaking. He pulls out the scalpel from him pants pocket and he walks over to the toilet. Since seeing the medical tool, an idea came to him. It wasn't a new idea to him. In fact, the idea was like a friend who liked to visit. Often, specially when he was in the streets. But he managed to put it off. He compromised and let parts of himself die as time went by. Things like pride or honor. But that compromise isn't enough now.

He thinks of Jon and offers him a mental wish for the best. The thought made his chest ache. He loves Jon. So he hopes that what he is about to do will bring his friend relief rather than pain. Only one person needs to hurt in this.

Until the end, Mort gives credit to the engineer. He tried to let him down gently, even lying about the confession. He reminds himself again, it was only a lie. He wonders if the others are also lying to him. It's so hard to tell. But he knows some will also be relieved. Cyclops being number one. He even laughs as an image of the X-men gathering and having a beer to celebrate finally being free of him. He hopes that does happen. They weren't so bad as he had previously thought.

Again he pictures Forge's face. Mort wishes he was brave enough to steal just one kiss. Maybe convince himself the confession was a real one. But he quickly reminds himself it was a lie. It was for someone else. Not him. No one loves the Toad. And now that Forge made things clear, or as clear as Mortimer believed they were, there was nothing left. He could see it in is head of how it all would fall apart. Forge would ask that they no longer share rooms. The others would of course support their fellow X-man. Things would grow strain. Logan would put up a wall to their nagging for a time. But Mortimer never liked to be a burden. So what were his options? Take off in the middle of the night and go back to the streets? Maybe at one point he could have done just that. But not now. He didn't have the strength anymore.

Finding out he came out clean was the best thing he learned. But he doubted he would stay that way if he had to go back. He thinks about the tool shed and his buried little stash. He doubts either are there. And even if they are, how long would it last? Specially before going back to providing services? He knew he still had it in him to pickpocket if need be, though he would feel bad for it after like he does now. But there were cold nights approaching. And there were nights when he had ended up empty handed.

Who knew that staying in a warm bed, having his needs actually be fulfilled and simply being allowed to dream, mostly about Jon, would make it impossible to go back to the streets. No, he simply didn't have it in him anymore. He wanted things to go back to the way they were. He would have done anything for that. But it is too late. He remembers how badly Forge wanted to leave the room. To get away from him. Why couldn't he have kept his big mouth shut? Another fault. Another reason why no one would want him.

Taking a deep breath, he sits down in front of the toilet and lifts the seat. He knew his body will not be a pleasant sight. But he wasn't going to leave them with a mess. One sheet or blanket will do the job. He lays his right arm across the toilet. His left hand shakes for a minute but he tightens the grip on the scalpel and brings it to the flesh on his wrist. He hisses in pain as he slowly glides the blade through the skin, focusing where he see's the dark veins gather, ignoring the sight of his own blood spilling from the cut.

The door suddenly bursts open despite the lock, making Mortimer jump and drop the scalpel onto the floor. The door tries to swing back but Forge pushes it open again, looking around the bathroom until his eyes fall on Mortimer.

"Mort!" Forge cries out and quickly moves to the green mutants' side. "What did you do?!"

Mortimer watches in stun silence as Forge quickly grabs a towel and wraps it tightly around Mort's bleeding wrist. Mort tries to pull his arm away.

"Don't move. Don't you dare move," Forge instructs Mortimer, his voice sounding strain.

A familiar bamf sound, followed by purplish vapors fills the bathroom. Mort looks over and see's Nightcrawler crouching beside him.

"Mein Gott!" Kurt mutters.

"Teleport him to the infirmary Kurt. Don't let go of the towel around his wrist," Forge tells Kurt in a near pleading tone.

Kurt nods and grabs Mortimer's bleeding arm, flinching when he touches the soak towel. Mortimer looks up at Forge and just before Kurt teleports them away, he is shaken to the core by Jon's tears.


	10. Chapter 10

Lost and Found

Chapter 10

Wolverine and the X-men fan fiction

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolverine and the X-men. Not sure who does but it isn't me. Please do not sue me.

Warning: This is a slash of Forge/Mort. Slash means guy/guy. This is a different story not related to my previous one titled "Touch". This story is darker, contains angst, self harm, sex, rape, violence and other dark themes. Please do not read if these topics disturb you. I do promise that things will brighten up at some point.

Please leave feedback!  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Three days later, Mortimer slowly walks to his room. Next to him is once again Kurt. Since his little suicide attempt it was decided that he shouldn't be left alone. Until when, Mort had no clue. He glances down at the square bandage on his wrist. Despite all the blood, he hadn't cut very deep nor made it to the web of veins he was going for. The cut ended up barely an inch long. Stitches weren't needed.

Yet this will be the first time back to his room. For the past three days he was restrained to the bed and on suicide watch. Yesterday the restraints were removed. Today he was released once Kurt had shown up. Kurt, not Jon his mind whispers.

He had not seen the X-man since the time in the bathroom. He felt a great sense of loss about this fact. He knew he made a mess of things yet again. The others confirmed this. Kitty told him the Forge has been looking very depressed lately. She was afraid he would end up in a bed next to him. The image of seeing Forge in tears flashes in his mind, making him freeze.

"Is everything alright?" Kurt asks.

"I...I just need a minute," Mort replies.

"Take your time," Kurt replies.

Mortimer does just that. The fact that he is the cause of those tears kills him. What was he thinking before? Did he really believe his actions wouldn't hurt Jon in some way? He really is stupid, he scolds himself. He takes a shaky breath in and moves his feet forward. He glances next to him and see's Kurt giving him an encouraging nod.

"How...how is he?" Mortimer asks, nearly whispering.

"You are talking about Forge? He is...feeling many things right now. You do know he's waiting for you in your room, right?" Kurt asks.

Again Mortimer freezes. Forge is waiting? For what? Why?

"He...he is?" Mort croaks out.

"Ja. Didn't he tell you?" Kurt questions, looking confused.

"He...he hasn't seen me since breaking down the bathroom door. He did do that right?" Mortimer asks. He remembers it happening but Jon seems incapable of doing such a thing.

"Surprising isn't it? Forge isn't known for doing things like that. To be honest, he isn't known for much besides getting on Logan's nerves. But he did kick that door down. Even thought to use his artificial leg to do it. Sorry, I remember Logan being impressed. But what do you mean he hasn't seen you? He's been with you every night," Kurt reveals.

"Every...night?" Mortimer repeats.

Kurt nods. It takes Mortimer a few minutes before he can walk again. They reach his door and Mortimer reaches out to turn the handle but stops. What if Kurt is wrong and Jon isn't waiting for him? Or if he is but only to yell at him? To tell him off? Fear is gripping him painfully and he finds it hard to move. Thankfully Kurt steps forward and knocks on the door.  
The door opens and Mort quickly drops his eyes.

"He's all yours," Kurt states.

"Thanks Kurt. See you in a bit," Forge replies.

Mortimer notices Kurt walking away but not before squeezing his shoulder encouragingly. When he's gone, Mortimer remains standing outside the door, looking down at his feet.

"Get in here already," Forge tells Mort, grabbing his wrist, the one without a bandage and pulls him into the room. Mort stumbles inside and nearly falls but manages to save himself before earning some rug burns. He hears Jon close their bedroom door behind him. Then, there is just silence. Mortimer almost believes that Jon must have left the room when suddenly he feels arms, one flesh and one mechanical, wrap around him from behind.

"Uhh..." Mortimer gasps in surprise.

"I'm sorry. Should I let you go?" Forge asks quietly.

"N...no," Mort replies without thinking.

The arms tighten slightly and Mortimer takes in a deep breath. He likes this feeling. It takes him a minute to think of the word to describe it. Secure. That's the word Mort realizes. He smiles for a moment. But then he remembers the tears. He doesn't deserve this he realizes. Quickly he struggles out of the hold. Forge doesn't resist and let's him go. Mort can hear him walk away.

"Mort?" Forge whispers.

"I'm sorry. I..." Mort tries to say more but the words are trapped in his throat.

"Could...you listen to me for a few minutes? There's something I need to tell you. But I won't force you to listen to me," Forge asks tentatively.

Mort nods his head despite growing cold inside. A memory of being controlled by the woman with blue hair surfaces but he quickly pushes it aside.

"I don't know where to start really. I just...I'm simply no good with people. Amongst other things. So I don't know what to do. I also don't think things through. I should have thought about your feelings. I'm just not use to this. Dang it, I'm just making excuses now!" Forge cries out in frustration.

Mortimer slowly looks over to Jon, seeing a surprising sight. Jon is sitting on his bed, his hands trying to gesture as he talked. His face is pale and Mort notices the dark circles under his eyes. His hair even appears more spiky then usual. He muffles a quick yawn, revealing how tired he is.

"Jon?" Mortimer calls out.

"I'm not doing a good job again am I?"Jon replies hopelessly.

Mort shakes his head.

"I figured as much. I'm sorry," Jon apologizes weakly.

"I...I don't understand why you are sorry. I should be the only one whose sorry. I always make a mess of things. You were...just being nice. Even at the end," Mortimer replies quietly.

"At the end? What do you mean?" Jon asks, looking over to Mortimer.

"You know, when you were trying to tell me that you were tired of me. You even told me you..." Mort answers, gesturing with his hand.

"What?! I never said that! I wasn't trying to say that! Dear God, did I screw up that badly?!" Jon replies, his face revealing a horrified expression.

"You weren't...trying to say that?" Mort asks, his eyes widening.

"No! No, I wasn't! I swear to God I wasn't! In fact, I was trying to say the opposite! Ugh!!" Jon cries out, covering his face with his hands.

There is a few minutes of silence before Jon rubs his face, a look of realization coming over his features.

"So that's why you did it. You thought I..." Jon starts to say but becomes unable to finish his sentence.

"No. It wasn't because of you. I...I got thinking about things," Mort tries to explain. He sighs, thinking he isn't all that much better with these things.

"What kind of things?" Jon asks carefully, hoping the question will be harmless.

"How much I don't deserve...things," Mort answers.

Jon gets up and moves closer.

"What do you think you don't deserve?" Jon asks, no longer wondering what is safe to say.

"Ah...love mainly. Hope. Dreams," Mort replies, his voice dropping at the end. Even to him, this answer sounds pathetic. Just as the tears that are spilling down his cheeks are pathetic.

"Of course you do. Everyone does," Jon tells Mort.

"No man, I don't. Look at me! I'm a freak of freaks. I'm stupid. A hassle. Useless," Mort replies bitterly, "No one could care about me much less love me."

"Wait a second! I know for a fact that I told you that I do care for you," Jon points out.

"You were just trying to be nice. Like the whole 'we're still friends but I need my space' kind of thing," Mort responds with an eye roll.

"Trying to be nice? We're still friends? I don't think you understood me. I don't care for you like a friend," Jon states firmly.

Mort swallows and looks away. Here it comes, he thinks. Jon is going to tear into him after all.

"You mean more to me than a friend or a team mate or a room mate. You are more than any of those things to me. Don't you understand?" Forge asks, the desperation heard in his voice.

Mortimer shakes his head as he crouches down.

"I love you," Jon says, lowering his own head as his face reddens. There it is. He finally said it clearly. And awake. Now he waits for the laughing fit to start.

"Come again?" Mort squeaks out.

"I...love...you," Jon repeats. He prays he doesn't have to say it a third time. It's so embarrassing! And is it growing warm in here? Maybe the central cooling unit is on the fritz.

"You mean...it was for me then?" Mort asks, his mind going blank on him.

"Yes! I didn't want to freak you out. Specially considering your past. But we both know how well that worked out though," Jon mutters.

"Which part was...the thing you couldn't tell me?" Mort asks, thinking back to what Jon had said when he pushed the engineer to talk to him.

"Uh...well...I guess both parts really. You know, loving you and...being jealous. God this is embarrassing! I wish I could teleport or phase or disappear right now," Jon shares, covering his face again.

"Jealous?" Mort repeats, suddenly remembering that part of the conversation.

"Please don't make me say it again," Jon moans behind his hand.

Mort slowly approaches Jon and without thinking he pulls Jon's hand away from his face.

"Mort?" Jon whispers his room mates name.

"You're not just being nice?" Mort asks.

"No...no I'm not. I meant every word of..." Jon answers before Mort snakes his hand to the back of Forge's head and pulls him forward.

When Jon's lips meet with Mort's, Jon moans deeply and circles his own arms around Mort's body, holding him tightly again. The kiss grows more passionate and both Jon and Mort think about this being what they call bliss. Mort breaks the kiss, panting just slightly. Jon stays still, catching his own breath.

"Uh, I'm sorry..." Mort apologizes before stepping back.

"Umm...sorry for what?" Jon asks, his face completely blank.

"I just did it again. I kissed you," Mort replies.

"Yeah, yeah you did," Jon states with a smile forming on his lips, his eyes looking dreamy.

"Ain't you upset? Last time I...you know...well you weren't happy," Mort asks, thinking about when he got pushed back and Jon ended up on the ground.

"Huh? Oh that...well that was...just different," Jon tries to explain, knowing he's failing miserably.

"Different?" Mort repeats, looking more confused.

"Okay, before, well you were...you weren't doing things because you wanted to. Because you felt like you had to. Last time, you thought I was expecting that. Which I certainly wasn't. Nope, wasn't expecting that. You don't owe me anything. You do know that, don't you?" Jon asks nervously as he starts to think about this.

Mort simply nods his head in agreement.

"You don't have to push yourself either. I know you did things...you didn't like. You know...before," Jon continues. "Tell me I'm making sense."

Suddenly Mort crouches down. Jon begins to panic when he notices Mort is shaking.

"Uh, Mort? What's wrong?" Jon asks, stepping forward and about to reach out to Mort when Mort bursts out laughing.

"Did I say...something funny?" Jon asks, turning red.

This only makes Mort laugh harder. Jon simply stands there, thinking about the pros and cons of telepathy. He would like to know what Mort is thinking right now to make him like this. But then knowing it was something he said or did makes him reconsider.

"Sor...sorry man. You...you are...just too...cute!" Mort gets out, laughing hard at the last word as he falls to his side.

"Cute?!" Jon cries out. Here he was trying to show that he cares and he comes out being...cute?

Mort glances up as he settles down, wiping his eyes.

"I'm really sorry. I guess...I'm still messed up. I know what you were trying to tell me. But when you get so...like me I guess, it's cute. Not saying I'm cute. Saying you are," Mort comments, sliding his foot across the rug sheepishly.

"Umm...thanks I guess. Back to what I was trying to say..." Jon tries again.

Mort raises his hand to stop him.

"No need. I got it. But the same goes for you. Just because you feel...something for me doesn't mean you have to make yourself do things," Mort interrupts.

"That isn't going to work," Jon comments.

"What?" Mort asks.

"The way you put yourself down. I can't let you do that," Jon states as he turn and grabs Mort's elbow, helping his stand up.

"I'm not. Just simple facts," Mort mutters as he gets up, avoiding Jon's gaze.

"Some facts. Just forget them and focus on this," Jon replies with a eye roll before lifting Mort's chin and kissing him deeply.

When Jon breaks this kiss, he smiles when he hears Mort whimper slightly. He notes that when the man whimpers in fear or pain, it makes his chest ache. But this whimper is from neither. Jon finds it to be pretty erotic really.

"You want to continue this?" Jon asks quietly.

Mort doesn't say anything but nods eagerly. Jon laces his fingers between Mort's web ones and gently leads him to Mort's bed. They sit down and Mort leans forward to kiss Jon again but Jon leans back away.

"Wait, um, I want you to promise me something," Jon tells Mort, offering what he hopes to be a teasing smile.

"What kind of promise?" Mort asks, hoping he wouldn't have to guess. He is slowly growing warm and in need of Jon's touch.

"No more suicide attempts. Please, don't let me see you like that again," Jon requests.

"I...promise," Mort responds eagerly. He again tries to lean forward and kiss Jon again but Jon again raises his hand, his index finger giving the one minute symbol.

"Say all of it," Jon requests. He notices the faint look of annoyance in Mort's large golden eyes. But he finds he can't help himself. He needs to hear the promise. And he is starting to really like teasing Mort.

"Fine man. I promise I won't try to kill myself again. Ever," Mort promises. Mort gives a wicked smile and let's his tongue slip out and lick Jon's gloved finger before wrapping around it. The rest of him leans forward and using his tongue, he pulls the finger into his mouth and starts to suck it, hoping Jon could still feel it through the glove. The tiny moan that escapes from the X-man confirms this.

"Whoa!" Jon exclaims, feeling like he's burning up. This is getting interesting quickly.

Mort releases Jon's gloved finger.

"More?" Mort asks seductively.

Jon tries to respond but the words are stuck in his throat. He simply nods in agreement. Mortimer slides his hands up Jon's arms, then back down, pulling the gloves off. Moving with skill, Mortimer slowly moves himself so he is straddling Jon's legs. He moves his arms up and when each hand is on the sides of Jon's face, he goes in and kisses Jon deeply. As gently as he can, he nibbles Jon's bottom lip before slipping his tongue into Jon's mouth. Mort's hands don't remain idle though as he brings them down over Jon's chest and gently pushes the vest back. Jon allows his vest to be removed, too intent in keeping the kiss going. But when Mort's hands rub his upper thighs, Jon jumps, breaking the kiss.

"Something wrong?" Mort asks, tensing.

"No...nothing's wrong. Well, maybe one thing," Jon flusters.

"What is it?" Mort asks as he moves to Jon's neck and begins to kiss the sensitive skin there.

"Ah! Hold on," Jon struggles to get out and grabs Mort by the shoulders to hold him back. Mort cocks his head to the side, wondering what is up with the handsome engineer.

"I...um...Ihavenoexperience," Jon says in one quick breath.

"I don't even understand Pietro when he does that," Mort comments.

"I have no experience!" Jon cries out as he let's go of Mort's shoulders and throws himself back on the bed in embarrassment. "I don't really know what to do."

"Oh!" Mort responds. He smiles as he notices Jon trying to avoid his eyes. "Hey don't worry. I can...show you."

Mort runs his fingers over Jon's beard, enjoying the tickling sensation on his finger tips. Jon slowly looks up at Mort and is rewarded with his lips being captured by Mort's own lips.

Jon manages a single thought in this heated moment. That if he could experience nothing further than Mort's kisses, he would be very happy. When Mort begins to kiss across his right cheek to his ear, Jon takes this opportunity to try to catch his breath when Mort nips on his ear. Jon hisses out and clutches the bed coverings. Mort certainly knows what he's doing, Jon thinks.

Mort is thrilled to see how Jon is responding to his kisses. Even though he acts like he knows what he is doing, the kissing and nipping, which he finds that he also enjoys, are actually experiments. The time when he worked for the brother and sister, no client dared kiss him. Or allowed him to kiss them though Mort didn't mind. His clients were nothing like Jon. So having this experience fills him with pure joy. Maybe after they were finished he will tell Jon.

A few hours later, Mort is laying beside Jon, resting his head on Jon's fleshly arm. He could not stop looking at his lover who is snoring lightly. He doesn't blame Jon for falling asleep. Three times in two hours can be a bit much, specially for someone who was a virgin. Mort licks his lips at this thought. Watching how Jon responded to every touch, every kiss, increased Mort's own desire.

That was something wonderfully new to him. When he first started things with Jon, he was focused solely on pleasing Jon. After his former experiences, Mort didn't believe he could feel pleasure during sex. He believed he was ruined. But as Jon moaned from Mort's many kisses and licks, he found himself losing his control to his own lust. And when Jon suddenly rolled them over, starting his own flurry of kisses and licks to Mort's skin, Mort had to bite his lip to stop from losing it. You would think he was the virgin!

He did learn something about Jon at that moment. The man was a tease and a hopeless romantic. He had riled Mort up pretty good then suddenly stopped. Mort had thought that maybe Jon needed some more help so he had brought his hands down Jon's chest towards a very eager groin. But before his hands could rub against the fabric, Jon had grabbed his wrists and tenderly yet firm, he brought them above Mort's head, pinning them there.

"Jon?" He had whispered.

"I want you to repeat what I said earlier," Jon told him as he moved his face close to Mort's.

"Uh huh. What am I suppose to repeat exactly?" He had asked. He wasn't sure if he rolled his eyes or not but he does remember trying to kiss him but Jon had pulled away.

"That I love you," Jon said with a goofy smile.

"Seriously?!" he questioned.

"Serious," Jon replied as he blowed on Mort's lips.

"No way," he replied.

Jon didn't say anything further at that moment but blew again but this time on Mort's exposed nipple. Adding to this tease, he grinds himself against Mort's leg. He was stubborn though or at least tried to. For a few minutes anyway. Finally, the desire to kiss, the desire to be touched and to touch won out.

"You...love me," Mort mutters quietly.

"What was that?" Jon teases, smiling.

"You love me," Mort says again.

"Still didn't catch that."

"You love me!" Mort yells out, looking directly at Jon.

"Yes I do. Don't..." Jon tells Mort as he kisses Mort's left nipple.

"Ever..." Jon lightly licks a thin trail to the other nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through Mort's body.

"Forget..." He blows on the nipple.

"That," Jon finishes as he takes a light bite on Mort's nipple.

Mort moans at the memory. Jon stirs, opening his eyes and looking sleepily at Mort.

"I think I heard something," Jon tells Mort with half closed eyes.

"Not yet, but you will," Mort whispers.

"Oh?" Jon asks.

"It's nothing much man. Just that I love you too," Mort replies.


End file.
